A Drawing for Brian
by shadowpiratemonkey7
Summary: Stewie desperately wants to give the picture he drew to Brian, but his thoughts start to go overboard when he considers how the dog might thank him. Throw in a few naughty dreams, an eerily familiar woman and blossoming lust, and you've got an obsession.
1. Chapter 1

So this is probably the most effed up thing I've ever written. Plus it's chock-full of obscure sex references that aren't relevant to anything, really. But I guess that's why I like it so much. ;D I can't help but love this couple, even though it's wickedly immoral.

Characters belong to the genius that hosted the Oscars this year.

:D

For a terrifying split second, he seemed to have lost the red.

Stewie searched frantically through his pile of crayons. Without red, the picture would be ruined. It threw off any chance of it becoming an authentic masterpiece. What would the art museums say?

Of course, what was originally supposed to be a drawing of a certain dog turned out looking somewhat like an alpaca at one point, but he fixed that. Sort of.

With a sigh of sweet relief, the child found the red hiding under another sheet of paper. There were several other blank pieces of paper scattered around his room; it was smart to have backups in case your first artistic attempt was butchered beyond repair. Or if you didn't know how to salvage an alpaca-dog mix up. Only the really good ones could fix a mistake of that caliber. He took the red crayon and carefully scribbled in the collar on his drawing. It really brought the picture to life! He couldn't imagine what it would have looked like if he'd had to use _pink_.

Certain that this was one of his best drawings yet, Stewie decided to add more pizzazz to it in the form of a background and a floating red heart, just to make sure it stayed the best. And nobody would spit on this one.

Rupert watched with interest as the drawing popped more and more off the page with its vibrant colors and uncanny likeness to the real thing. It almost rivaled some of Chris' work.

Scratch that. It was _so_ much better.

Once nothing more could be added to the piece, Stewie set aside all his crayons (he'd organize them later) and signed his name in tiny, vigilant handwriting in the bottom right corner. The drawing was so good he actually considered keeping it for himself, but that wasn't right. It was for Brian, and it would stay that way. Besides, he could look at it all he wanted if it received the honor of being displayed on the fridge. And he knew Brian cared for him too much to deny it that honor.

Stewie slowly ran his fingers over the drawing of the dog he liked so much. He made sure to capture the likeness to a T—bored and slightly irritated, but willing to let certain things slide. _See, only _real_ artists put that much thought into their pictures._

He wondered how Brian would react to it. "It" being Stewie's unbelievable act of kindness by going out of his way to create a work of art solely for his friend; no matter what the dog said, he couldn't convince the boy that any of his lovers had ever _drawn_ for him—the gesture was just far too intimate for all of his stupid skanky girlfriends to comprehend.

Overwhelmed all of a sudden, Stewie lay on the ground and rolled over onto his stomach. He stared at the picture, his thoughts filling up with the real dog; his reaction, his gratitude, his smile.

His return "present", fuck _yes_.

Stewie slapped an arm over his eyes, embarrassed, and sat up. "That came out of nowhere, I swear to Satan," he explained hastily to Rupert. Rupert didn't look too convinced. "Okay, sorry. I'll make it up to you." Stewie scooted over to his teddy bear and held him close.

"Is that better?"

Rupert said no. He was still pretty upset.

Stewie kissed the bear, right on the mouth. Rupert didn't make a sound, so it must not have been satisfactory. "What do you _want_ from me, then?" the baby grumped, exasperated. Some people were just so hard to please!

Rupert's expression made it pretty clear what he wanted from Stewie. Far from being offended, as Rupert did this all time, the child set him down with a sigh and removed his overalls. "This had better shut you up." Rupert said it would.

He took the bear in his lap, so focused that he didn't hear when the door opened. Therefore the deep voice startled him so badly he flinched away from Rupert.

"What're you doing?"

Bright red, Stewie whipped around to face the intruder, frantically making sure to hide the picture without seeming suspicious. "Drawing, what does it look like?!"

Brian didn't look fazed. "I was bored. Do you wanna watch a movie?"

His face still felt warm, so Stewie looked at his feet—and suppressed a surprised giggle at the sight of them. He cleared his throat, pulling his bare legs up to his chest. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. As long as it's not stupid!"

"When do I ever pick a stupid movie," Brian asked dryly, crossing his arms. He noticed that Stewie was hiding something behind his back, and stepped closer. His suspicions turned out to be correct when he saw the child reach back quickly and swipe it out of sight.

"I dunno, they're just always stupid comedies or whatever," Stewie said, distracted. Brian scoffed.

"You practically died during the last movie. I thought you were literally going to stop breathing."

"Because it was just _that_ bad."

"People don't laugh like that when they think something's bad," the dog countered, staring down the baby with a smirk.

"That was a fake laugh!"

"I've heard your fake laugh. This was _definitely_ not your fake laugh."

Stewie scowled, flipping Brian off. "Just go pick something, and make sure it's not as bad as the last one!"

Brian chuckled; they both knew he had won. "Wow, so you want something even _funnier_? Okay, but that'll be hard to find."

"Yes, it will," Stewie agreed, looking around for Rupert. Oh wait, he just totally blew his cover… He NEVER wanted to admit to liking that movie…it was so _pedestrian_…

"Ah ha," Brian said, grinning. As Stewie shifted away, the dog could see a little of what the kid was hiding. "What's that?" he asked, his interest piqued. "Did you draw it?"

Stewie threw himself in front of the paper, beet red. "YES, I drew it! Where do you get off on looking at my things?! Did I ASK if you wanted to see it?! _Did_ I?!"

Brian backed up, surprised. "Uh…no?"

The child froze, noticing the look on his friend's face. Wow. That outburst must've made him look irresistible in Brian's eyes.

"Sorry…it just looked really good…," the dog continued, holding his hands up in peace. "I won't ask anymore. Sheesh."

_Oh, don't say sheesh! That just suggests that you're annoyed with me! Don't be annoyed with me!_

Stewie recoiled a bit, sitting up straighter. "Um…I-I'm sorry…it's just…not finished." He tried a sheepish smile, looking more disturbed than anything. Brian raised an eyebrow, not sure how to continue this conversation.

"Well uh…I'm gonna go…search for a movie. Funnier than 'The Other Guys'. Come down when you finish your drawing." The dog left then, closing the door behind him out of habit. He knew Stewie liked it closed.

The child's heart sunk. He looked down at his masterpiece, thinking how happy he had been with it. Now it just seemed like a wasted effort. Brian would never love him _that_ way if all Stewie did was yell at him. The baby sighed, ashamed of his attitude. There was no way he was going to give that picture to Brian _now_.

Rupert looked up at him with pleading eyes. Stewie shoved the bear away in frustration. "Not now, Rupert! You know I'm only using you!"

Rupert knew. But he didn't care because he was just a slut.

A slut filled with manufactured _stuffing_.

Stewie patted his bear's head and sat him upright affectionately. That's why he liked Rupert.

The movie made Stewie fall off the couch about four times, and they weren't even through the first hour yet.

Sure, it wasn't appropriate for a normal one-year-old to watch, but Stewie always, _always_ made the argument that he wasn't like normal one-year-olds. Brian believed it, of course, but being a responsible adult, he still had to—sometimes—take into account the child's age. Tonight, seeing as everyone else was out having dinner at a hoity-toity restaurant that _didn't_ allow dogs to celebrate Peter's inexplicable raise, Brian decided to let it slide.

He smiled down at the kid, who was currently covering his mouth in pleasure as he intently watched "the goddess" Kristen Wiig on the television, spouting off profanities as her best friend built a friendship with a complete bitch. Stewie had put up quite a fuss when he found out Brian wasn't allowed to come to the restaurant; so much that the family decided it was best not to bring a crying baby to such a place, and dumped him on Brian. Of course, the moment the family left, the child was completely fine and he and the dog had a good laugh over how things turned out. The dinner was going on longer than Brian had thought it would, but he was all right with that. He was touched, though not surprised, that Stewie had made that big of a deal just to stay home with him. He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize what it all meant.

Kristen Wiig's character had just drunkenly told off one of the flight attendants, and Stewie was on the floor once again. He was gasping like a fish out of water, delighted. Brian laughed a little himself at the sight; it was so cute. He knew he had done a good job picking the right movie.

"Could she _be_ any more enchanting?!" Stewie cried, wiping at his tears as he laughed his heart out. "Where has she _been_ all my life?!"

Brian knew that anything he said at this time would be ignored, so he just chuckled and crossed his legs on the cushions, enjoying the movie. Stewie eventually got back up on the couch, sat Indian style, and placed his head in his hands, anticipating more.

Unconsciously, he scooted closer to Brian, allowing their feet to touch. It sent a shiver down the child' spine, but the dog didn't seem bothered.

Stewie tried his hardest not to fall off the couch anymore; he wanted to prolong his physical contact with the warm canine beside him, however small or insignificant it may have been.

Stewie wasn't sure when the movie ended.

All he knew was that somehow there was something else on TV, something he thought looked familiar but couldn't put his finger on.

Maybe it was because Brian was feeling him up.

That may have been stretching it a little, but really, what _do_ you call it when someone persistently rubs your back without you asking for it? Or better yet, when you haven't made any implication that you wanted him to keep going?

Not that Stewie had a problem with it. But it was a little weird. Brian normally didn't do this type of thing, especially to Stewie. He hadn't even said anything beforehand, he just…did it. Now that he thought about it, the child couldn't even remember when Brian had started.

The show on the TV changed all of a sudden. This one he recognized. It was the Teletubbies. Oh god, how such a creepy show could capture the attention of a scientific genius such as Stewie was beyond him, but he found that he was entranced, as always. Brian scooted closer. Caught in the spell the Teletubbies were casting on him, Stewie couldn't react.

"Turn it off," Brian said suddenly, sounding perfectly normal for someone who was obviously trying to be sexual.

Stewie tried to reach for the remote, but he couldn't bring himself to budge. Brian was rubbing his snout against the child's neck, slowly and deliberately. Feeling ticklish all of a sudden, Stewie flinched away from the dog, scooting to the far end of the couch where the remote was. Brian grabbed his arm, and the remote was forgotten.

He was pulled back into the dog's lap and Brian wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the child's small frame. Stewie didn't know what was happening. He certainly didn't know how to describe the feeling of Brian invading his personal space. He thought it would've felt good, but was "good" supposed to feel this awkward?

Brian bent down and licked at the boy's face tenderly, apparently not minding the TV anymore. Stewie was pretty sure he squeaked, but he didn't hear anything escape his mouth.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back and the dog was straddling him, not so tender anymore. He started kissing the boy, and at first it was amazing—the shock hadn't worn off, no; but it still thrilled him. However that sensation faded quickly. Brian was getting too rough, and Stewie got scared.

"Brian no," he gasped, his words coming out slurred. He pushed at the dog's nose, but he failed to hinder any of the dog's advances. Stewie couldn't hear anything around him anymore; the TV had either shut off by itself or he had gone deaf.

Brian continued to kiss him like this was just another one-night-stand, like it was routine. Stewie was hurt by the habitual vibe of the dog's actions and refused to kiss back, no matter how much he longed to.

The lab sat up, taking his collar off and setting it aside. Stewie understood what that meant, but he didn't know if he could do anything about it. "Dog, get the hell off me," he said meekly, trying to sound angry.

"It's a return present for the picture," Brian said calmly. Stewie's eyes grew wide with shock.

"How the Devil do you know about that?!"

"It's what you want, and you want it rough." The boy could've slapped the dog for the outright nonsensical bullshit he was spewing if he hadn't been so stunned.

Or if he hadn't been so right.

Still, Stewie wasn't one to be pushed around. If he said no, that was that, end of story. Brian obviously couldn't comprehend this simple fact.

"If I wanted it," the child said slowly, "I would've let you know. Now get. The fuck. Off me."

Brian licked his lips, his expression static. "You've been letting me know for a while."

Stewie wanted to protest, but he was really just surprised by the fact that Brian had caught on to his advances. The dog never let on. Then again, Stewie hadn't really been that discreet about it. Taking advantage of the silence, the lab bent down to kiss the baby again, but this time Stewie was ready. He reached up and bopped the canine in the nose as hard as he could, and rolled off the couch while Brian tried to snap out of his surprise.

"Wait!" Brian called, reaching out for Stewie, but the baby hightailed it out of the living room. Not knowing what else to do, he ran for the kitchen. Once his sock hit the tile, he went sliding into the far wall, cursing loudly as he crashed head-on. Brian entered the room as well, and Stewie, in a panic, scrambled onto the nearest counter and pulled a knife from out of nowhere.

"I don't wanna have to do it, man!" he said bravely, trading his British accent for a typical thug slur.

"It's dangerous to stand on a counter with a knife," Brian said. Stewie stared open-mouthed at him. _That_ was the issue here?

As if his body decided to move on its own, Stewie dropped the knife and leaped off the counter, sliding on his socks yet again. Brian watched him crash into another wall, his expression back to being blank.

A second later Stewie ended up in the upstairs hallway. He wasn't sure how he got there so quickly; he didn't remember climbing up the steps or even leaving the kitchen. But from the sound of creaking stairs below him, he figured he had to get going.

His door wasn't locked. The other doors were. He knew that somehow; he also knew that his door wouldn't lock once he was inside, either, so he had to find a good hiding spot quickly.

There was something off about his room. Everything was still there, but it seemed compressed and suffocating. All his stuffed animal friends were facing his direction, watching him from the corner of the room, even though he knew he hadn't left them there.

His crayons were gone, though. The picture, too.

The door clicked open again and Brian came in, looking about as normal as he'd ever looked. Stewie backed into his dresser, looking around for his baseball bat. It wasn't anywhere. Someone must've taken it.

"Brian, go away," he said shakily. But Brian didn't go away. He entered Stewie's room just as he had earlier that night; calm, bored. Looking for something to do.

"Brian," Stewie said again, louder. His legs were trembling as he supported himself on the dresser behind him. "Go awa—"

He was on the floor then, flat on his belly, dazed. Either he had fallen or Brian had shoved him, but either way he knew the dog was right above him, so he frantically crawled towards his bed—not the ideal location for someone who was about to be raped, but what _did_ make sense about this scenario?

Brian pulled him back by the leg with surprising force. "Ow! Ow, you stupid mutt, that _HURT!_" Stewie yelled, twisting around to get a look at the dog. Brian's expression was different now; he looked happy for some reason. He managed to pick the struggling toddler up and carry him to the bed, which didn't look at all like Stewie's normal bed, and throw him onto it. Brian climbed on top of the child and continued kissing him like he had been on the couch, as if he hadn't been interrupted by anything.

Stewie batted at the dog furiously, adrenaline shooting through his tiny body like a bullet. Brian's forceful kisses muffled the child's screams of protest, and all the while the boy could feel his clothes being taken off. Before he could fully register the fact, his skin was in direct contact with Brian's soft, cozy fur. He fit under Brian perfectly; the two of them were just the right size for this…_embrace_.

But now was no time to swoon. His first time with Brian was supposed to be special, not downright scary and weird. And it wouldn't hurt if Brian acted like _Brian_ while it happened.

Stewie tried once more in vain to escape; the room was pitch black and he could only feel his way around the oddly large bed, but he grabbed what he assumed was a pillow and shoved it in the dog's face. Brian actually growled and yanked the pillow right out of Stewie's hands, lobbing it onto the ground with a force the baby didn't even know he had. The pillow split and white feathers flew out from the inside, floating in little spirals to the carpet.

"That's going to be you," the dog said. Stewie blinked, pretty sure that was a threat.

"I don't _want_ to be split!" That was a weird thing to say. This was a weird conversation.

Stewie now knew enough about sex to understand what was going to happen to him. Sex was _not_ a type of cake. But he was sure that the word "splitting" was pretty applicable to it, and that didn't settle well in his stomach.

"You're going to have to get used to it!" Brian countered, flipping the baby over. Stewie collided face-first into the plush bedspread and suddenly knew that he was being…sex'd.

If anyone asked Stewie to explain what sex felt like, he wouldn't know what to say. It was just happening, and the only word that kept flashing through his mind was "pillow". This, he figured, correlated to the whole "splitting" thing.

"Oh Brian, don't!" he cried, wondering if that was the right thing to say. He didn't know much about the process of rape.

"You said you wanted it rough!" Brian grunted back.

_"Rough" like "ruff"? Like a dog…ha. Wait, no, getting raped here! _

Stewie tried to fight it, but he had heard on countless occasions that sex felt amazing when it was with someone you loved or remotely liked, and he more than remotely liked Brian. Maybe he did want it.

Yeah…it actually wasn't that bad! Perhaps he had just been pretending to not want it to egg the dog on? Who knew and who cared, because he got it all the same.

"Brian, Brian, _Brian!_" Stewie moaned, grabbing onto the sheets. "Fuck me, yes—_FASTER!_"

"I'm fucking you, I'm fucking you!" Brian cried, panting and exhausted. Stewie would not have that—he had finally begun to enjoy this. Brian was _not_ about to quit on him.

"Hurry it up, I want _feathers!_" Stewie demanded, now just feeling unbelievably annoyed that he wasn't getting what he wanted. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Faster, faster!"

"Faster…"

"Stewie?"

"Fas…"

Stewie opened his eyes. The contrast of the dream to what he woke up to jarred him considerably. He was still in his room, but everything was back to normal. All the stuffed animals were where he had left them. The crayons were still scattered, the picture still safely hidden. Even the bed was back to being his own bed. And there was no _split_ _pillow_ on the floor.

The boy slowly turned to his right, coming face-to-face with Brian. But it was the real Brian, not the cruel, mechanical one that had somehow crept into his dream. The dog was looking at him with sleepy, slightly worried eyes, and Stewie's heart melted. He noticed his companion's arms were wrapped around him protectively, like they always were when they slept with each other. Stewie snuggled closer into the dog's chest and sighed, just trying to shake off that awfully strange dream.

"Are you okay? Was that a nightmare?" Brian whispered, tightening his hold on the child. Stewie thought for a moment and decided, yes, it really was a nightmare. An _arousing_ nightmare, but still one nonetheless. He nodded his head against his friend's soft fur, relishing in the genuine feel of it.

"I'm all right," he said, yawning. "Did I miss the movie?"

"You zoned out after a while, which really shocked me," Brian said, smiling. "You were _loving_ Kristen Wiig." Stewie snorted. Who wouldn't love Kristen Wiig? "I looked over and you were sleeping, curled up in a little ball. It's been a couple hours…" He yawned. "I waited up for the family after putting you to bed. Hope you don't mind me joining you in here. Peter and Lois are in their room, still…um…still _celebrating_, if you know what I mean."

"That's horrifying. Why don't you just sleep in here permanently?" Stewie asked hopefully, using the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. If humans found that move adorable, a dog sure as hell should.

Chuckling, Brian yawned again; a loud, grand yawn—the kind that most dogs do after a long day. "I dunno, kid. You'd get tired of the company pretty fast. It's nice to have your own bed." Stewie found the dog's sleepy talk incredibly adorable and nestled closer.

"I like having you here," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It's…nice."

"Hmm."

Hesitantly: "Hey, Dog?"

"Mmyep?"

"I, um…about earlier today…when you asked about the picture I was drawing…" He felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Apologizing was not one of his strong suits, but it was always easier when he remembered that he would always be better at it than Brian was. Heck, anyone was better at apologizing than Brian was. "I'm…well…I snapped at you. And I'm…"

"S'okay," Brian said, stroking the kid's back affectionately. Stewie immediately thought back to his dream and how weird that back-rubbing had felt. But in reality, it was as nice as he'd ever imagined it to be. "I wasn't mad or anything." Another yawn. This one seemed final.

A few minutes passed, filled with comfortable silence. Stewie's face was still buried in his friend's coat and he could therefore only see fuzz, but he could eventually hear the soft, peaceful breathing that sleep brought. It helped him fall asleep shortly after, delving into a pleasant dream about horses and chocolate, with no pillows in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was loud and annoying. _Apparently this raise is the best thing that's ever happened to this family_, Stewie thought disdainfully as he chomped on his Frosted Flakes.

"This raise is the best thing that's ever happened to this family!" Peter cried, breaking out the booze early.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Stewie mumbled. Oh lord, if only he could get himself out of this highchair. Brian chuckled next to him, not looking up from the paper. Stewie felt himself smiling as he watched the dog. Despite the four persistently annoying interruptions sitting around him and Brian at the table, Stewie was in a rather good mood. He hoped Brian had nothing going on today, or god forbid a date. Suddenly he just wanted to _do_ something with him. Perhaps a little cross-country trip, just for kicks?

"Brian! You missed the best celebration ever last night!" Chris squealed from across the table. Brian hummed, obviously not paying the teenager any mind. "There was a clown, and a cowboy, and then the police came and there were gunshots everywhere…can we go again, Mom!?"

Stewie and Brian exchanged glances. Sounded like another typical day for the Griffin family. If anything, their quiet evening together was much more out of the ordinary.

"Only if your father manages to get another big, fat raise," Lois giggled, kissing her husband and making the kids stick their tongues out in disgust.

"Dad, what did you even do differently to get a raise?" Meg asked with a skeptical look.

"Oh, like I even had to do anything different? I'm naturally gifted. Don't be stupid, Meg," Peter chastised.

"Yeah, Meg, don't be stupid!" Chris said.

"Yeah, Meg!" Stewie joined in.

"Who wants more bacon?" Lois called out with a smile. From then on, the room only got that much louder. Getting a crap-load more money than they needed was always very exciting for the Griffins.

The noise of the party carried up the stairs and into Stewie's room; the child furiously covered his ears and sang to try and drown it out. His improvised tune about wanting to live alone for the rest of his life was too short, though, and the noise immediately infiltrated his brain again. Everyone else was downstairs attending the party, which Peter had thrown together to…yes, celebrate the raise. All the neighbors were crowded in the living room, and Stewie could've sworn he hadn't heard the words "congratulations" or "raise" even once. These people just wanted an excuse to drink before 2 p.m. on a Saturday.

The baby had tried to join in the party as well, only because Brian seemed to be having a good time, but it had gotten to be too much. He was more partial to sophisticated parties, with suits and gowns and glittering wine under the moonlight; not a bunch of New England drunks playing charades in a cramped living room.

Stewie's mind drifted to more important thoughts; like, what was he going to do tonight? He'd had enough of this house for one day—half a day with his family and already he was sick of seeing them. And, no, spending the evening sitting in his room trying to put blocks into alphabetical order was not going to fly.

The door swung open all of a sudden, and Brian stomped in looking like he wanted to throw something. Stewie handed him a wooden alphabet block and the dog hurled it into the far wall so fiercely it left a crack in the paneling.

"Soooo? Havin' a fun time down there?" Stewie grinned.

"He is _so_ _FUCKING_…! Ugh!" Brian flopped face-first onto the carpet and gritted his teeth. A few seconds later he slammed the floor with his fist.

"Who now?"

"That disgusting rapist of a next-door neighbor," Brian growled into the carpet. "He has the nerve to talk down to _me_ when _he's_ the one who's fucking…_disillusioned_ by reality."

"There, there, B-ry. I'm sure you'll work through this breakup and find someone that's even better." Stewie patted the top of the dog's head. Brian just turned away from the infant and continued steaming.

"I can see why you're so pissed at everyone all the time," he grumbled, so quietly Stewie almost couldn't hear him. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm the only one who has any common sense."

"That's how I feel at school." Stewie smiled, firmly placing down M before N. He had always been confused by those two, but this time he thought he had it right. "You wanna go somewhere tonight?" he asked suddenly, not allowing himself time to build up the courage to ask such a bold question.

Brian lifted his head a little, looking defeated. "Sure," he mumbled. "Where?"

Stewie twiddled his fingers. "Well, I was hoping you could think of a place. I mean, it is Saturday, and there must be a lot of clubs open on Saturdays…"

"You and your clubs," the dog scoffed. He still had a hard time accepting Stewie's more provocative double-life, complete with cross-dressing, delusional suitors, and flashy gay bars. Frankly, it made his stomach twist with anxiety, but he never said anything. He sighed, sitting up onto his knees. "Fine, I'll see what's open tonight."

"Aww, you're just the most generous doggie ever, aren't you!" Stewie cried, clapping his hands in excitement. He could've melted with happiness; his evening would totally _not_ suck now!

"Yeah, yeah, you owe me," Brian grunted, standing up. Stewie's heart leapt when he realized that he had the perfect return gift—currently hidden under his bed in the form of a da Vinci-esque masterpiece (appropriately, as he did have some da Vinci blood in him); once they came home, Stewie could hand it to Brian and nonchalantly watch as the dog gave in to its sophisticated artfulness.

Then again, if the picture itself was a return gift, that meant Brian wouldn't feel obligated to pay Stewie back for it. And he would have to be pretty dense to not know what Stewie wanted in return. Conflicted, the baby stared down at his alphabet blocks, which stopped at O. He couldn't even focus enough to figure out what came after it.

Maybe he could just repay the canine with some money or something, and give the picture to him on a completely separate occasion. Because that was the classy thing to do.

He sat up suddenly, eyes wide with excitement. "I've got the perfect outfit for clubbing," he gasped, and ran over to his dresser.

"You keep your clubbing outfits in your dresser?" Brian asked, wrinkling his nose. "What if Lois sees them?"

Stewie leaned into a drawer, pulled out a small black box with a knob on it, and looked at Brian slyly. "She'll never see these babies." He turned the knob and suddenly the wall next to the dresser opened up, out of the blue, to reveal a closet full of dresses, shoes, wigs, hats, rubber chickens…and a whole lot of glitter.

"Oh, so…," Brian said, staring in awe at the hidden closet. "That's where you keep those things."

The child skipped over and began to search through the various skirts and gowns that Brian recognized from the past: Desiree, the dress from his magician stunt, the nurse. Then he saw the Karina outfit and pulled at his collar in embarrassment. Stewie gasped and pulled a sparkling red dress out from between two more classy-looking costumes. From the look on the kid's face, Brian could tell this was the "perfect outfit" he was talking about.

"Isn't it pretty? I bought it a little while ago; it's a total hit at parties." Stewie smiled, looking at the dress with great fondness. Brian swallowed, noting how short and tight-looking the piece of clothing seemed.

"So you've…worn that before? In a club?" He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Alone?"

Stewie glanced up at Brian, confused. "Just a couple times. I had to test it out, see if it was worth having bought."

"But when do you even have _time_ to go to places like that?" Brian was well aware of how judgmental he sounded, but he was the family dog after all, and he had an obligation to protect the family from things ranging from helicopters to perv-infested clubs.

"I go when I feel like it!" Stewie snapped. "What's the problem, anyway? You know I can take care of myself. Sometimes I just feel like having a little fun."

Brian didn't want to get into an argument that he knew wouldn't go anywhere. "Well, I wish you'd at least bring me from now on. I can't help but worry about you."

"Wh-whatever, _Mom_." Stewie turned around, pretending to inspect his beloved garment, but in reality he was desperately trying to hide his blushing face. "Now…what wig would look good with this? …Oh my gosh, wig! Kristen Wiig! No wonder there's a connection! I knew we were meant to be together!" Brian rolled his eyes and sat on the floor again, ignoring the baby's nonsensical rambles. He would've probably gone back to the party if Quagmire weren't still there, talking up a shit storm.

"This one will have to do," Stewie said, spinning around on his heel; he held up a black fluffy thing that was apparently supposed to be a wig. Brian didn't really care what the kid dressed like at this point—he couldn't convince him otherwise.

"Do you have like a fake ID or something?" the dog asked, knowing the answer.

"Brian, don't you worry about a thing. I know people."

"That worries me _just_ a little."

Stewie stuck his tongue out playfully and placed his ensemble carefully on his bed. After picking out a pair of white, laced stockings and some dazzling rouge heels, he shut the secret closet. Brian couldn't help but laugh as he watched the kid eagerly gathering up combs and makeup to complete his collection.

"You know it's only like 2:30 in the afternoon," he said, settling down on the floor using one of his elbows.

"Give a man a day to get ready and he'll use every second of it," Stewie said sagely, his nose high in the air.

"I think that mainly applies to girls." Brian smiled and shook his head. "And I barely think being a one-year-old classifies you as a man."

"Well! I hardly think being a rotten _mutt_ classifies one as a man, either!"

"Touché. Really though, what would everyone say if they saw you walking around the house like a slu—I mean, classy lady all day?"

Stewie gave him a look. "Then I suppose we'll have to leave earlier than originally planned," he said. "We can find something to amuse us for the day, can't we?"

Brian grumbled, "How about I go to the Clam and drop you off at a mental institution?"

Stewie shoved past him, his pile of girly accessories in tow. "Either stay in here where my animals will judge you or come keep me company," he said snobbishly. Brian took one look at the stuffed animals and, while he knew they certainly weren't alive…he actually wasn't that sure at all. He followed Stewie into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.

Without looking at the dog, Stewie stripped down to nothing but his socks. Also without looking at the dog, he slipped into the lacy girly underwear he had sneaked out of his dresser while Brian wasn't looking. Next came the stockings, and his heart raced when he thought about how close Brian was standing while he did this. He had made the canine join him on a sudden whim, as sudden as his proposal to go out had been.

The lace felt nice and smooth on his skin, and he could only imagine what it would feel like to have them pulled down by a certain pair of furry white hands…

Brian would probably be gentle, but efficient. He'd place the baby on top of the bathroom counter, kissing so deeply Stewie would lose sight of where he was. The stockings hit the floor and Stewie's on his back, waiting impatiently for Brian to get on top of him…

And then he does, with his hands on either side of Stewie, pressing their tummies together with lusty thrusts…there's overwhelming warmth flowing through their bodies as Brian finally enters him and…

And he's back on his feet, with half-raised stockings, staring at the sink with partially opened eyes. Brian glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I just…was thinking," Stewie mumbled, breaking out in a cold sweat. His face was as red as his dress.

Stewie waited out on the front lawn while Brian convinced Lois to let him bring the baby "out to lunch". She was pretty shit-faced already, so it wasn't that hard. Stewie rolled his eyes in disgust. He could hear that ever-annoying "celebration" even from outside.

While he waited, he pulled out a tiny mirror from his purse, checking out his dress-up job. Flawless as always: tasteful red lipstick that matched his dress, faint violet eye shadow, and a short, shiny black wig that wrapped around his face perfectly. He brushed the long bangs away from his eyes and smiled. Definitely a hit.

Brian came rushing out of the house, looking slightly scared. His face was pink. Stewie ran up to him as best he could with heels on. "What did she say?"

"She was…_so_ drunk," Brian said, looking back at the house uncertainly.

"I know that…," Stewie grumbled.

The dog just shook his head, his ears flapping back and forth. "Never mind, it's okay for us to go. Just as long as we're 'back by supper'."

"When the fuck is _supper_ supposed to be?"

Brian laughed, shrugging. "I have no frigging idea. Let's get outta here."

Breaking into giggle fits, the duo rushed to Brian's Prius and hopped inside. Stewie slammed the radio on and turned it up as loud as he could before Brian slapped his hand away and turned it down.

"No country today, I can't stand it," the dog groaned, changing the Carrie Underwood song to some 80's station. Bruce Springsteen came on, and Stewie's disappointed expression disappeared immediately.

"'Dancing in the Dark'…I _love_ this song," he sighed dreamily, turning it all the way up again. Brian sighed but didn't argue. "Doesn't it just make you want to find someone and _dance_? That's what it does to me."

"Sure," Brian grinned. "Now help me find one of your little gay clubs."

"If you insist," Stewie said over the music, grinning cheekily.


	3. Chapter 3

:D updates should be fast, because I've already got a lot of this written out already. Enjoy~ *flies away*

For a Saturday afternoon, the place was pretty packed.

Brian was surprised; he was expecting—and dreading—a club full of flamboyant gay men and nothing but flamboyant gay men, but there were plenty of girls there too. Whether or not they were lesbians didn't matter to Brian, and evidently from past events, it didn't matter to most of them, either. Brian grinned, disregarding his stereotyping for the sake of a little fun.

There was a good-sized dance floor with brightly colored, disco-like lighting coming from above. Small tables filled with chattering, barely dressed people surrounded the crazy, dancing partygoers, and at the end of the room was what Brian had been hoping for: a bar.

"Not bad, eh?" Stewie nudged his friend, waggling his eyebrows. Brian smiled and shook his head, eyeing a group of laughing girls.

"Not bad at all, Stewie…"

Stewie frowned slightly. Of course the child had taken into account Brian getting drunk and trying to pick up girls, but in all fairness, the dog completely lacked in the charm department as soon as alcohol was involved. So he wasn't too worried.

"By the way, it's not a gay bar, so. In your face."

"In _my_ face? Is that supposed to disappoint me?"

Stewie smiled coyly. "You assume I only go to gay bars. Well, take a gander at this place. Women _everywhere_."

"I still see more well-dressed guys around here than women," Brian said, scanning the building.

"Maybe you wanted a gay bar?" Stewie asked in a high-pitched voice, elbowing the dog a bit more roughly. Brian saw his shit-eating grin and decided it best not to fuel the troll.

"I'm gonna sit at the bar for a while," the dog said after a moment. "I mean, heh, everyone else is getting drunk at 3 p.m., I might as well join in."

"Ever the individual," Stewie grumbled. "You go do that, then. I happen to love this song," he pointed to the DJ as if to clarify, "so I'm going to go dance." The baby gave the dog a challenging look, and when Brian simply motioned for Stewie to carry on, that's exactly what he did.

Brian in turn swerved around a drunken group of people doing the chicken dance and made it to his destination without getting trampled. He sat on a cushy stool, looking back to see if he could keep an eye on his little buddy from where he was. It wasn't too hard to spot the two-foot, sparkling red cross-dresser among the partygoers, so Brian leaned back and relaxed.

"What'll it be?"

The bartender absently cleaned a glass, looking utterly bored out of her skull. She was pretty, but incredibly intimidating. Brian had the feeling that if he tried hitting on her she'd rip his head right off his torso.

"Uh…," he looked at what the girl next to him was drinking and almost smiled when he saw what it was. "I'll have a martini. I haven't had one of those in a while." The bartender looked like she couldn't have cared less, and started to fix one up for the dog. Brian turned back to the brunette next to him.

"Hey there," he said.

The girl gave him a once-over, decided he was trash, and buried her nose back into her phone.

"Fine. You weren't that attractive anyway," Brian mumbled, turning away. He took his martini and sipped, humming at the familiarity. Sometimes he wondered why he switched from these. Leaning back again, he watched his companion on the dance floor. His stomach twisted slightly when he saw Stewie talking it up with some stupid blonde-haired guy and looking absolutely smitten. _Not gay my ass. _

Scowling, he ordered another martini, just to be safe.

On his third drink, he lost sight of Stewie.

Jumping to conclusions, he stupidly almost, _almost_ reported a missing child to the security guard. But then he realized that more people had arrived in the hour and a half they had been at the club, so it was only natural he wouldn't see Stewie every second in the massive crowd.

The music picked up, and then he finally saw who he was looking for.

Grinding.

With yet another guy.

What the hell happened to the blonde dude? Did their fling just not work out? It had only been an hour, for Peter's sake. _Heh…in-jokes,_ Brian thought. Man, he was not handling these drinks very well…

The guy Stewie was with was way, way older, maybe in his thirties or something. He obviously had no idea who or what Stewie actually was, or maybe he just didn't care. Either way it made Brian want to punch his face off. He almost left his seat to cut in, but then he realized that if he went over there Stewie would either get mad or make him dance, and that was…not something he was going to get into.

Instead he just took to seething quietly on his bar stool, sipping at his martini and staring down the new guy. Both he and the cross-dressing toddler looked pretty comfortable; it was disturbing to watch. Brian figured that he was just being protective of the child, and for good reason; there were shady figures crawling all over these kinds of places, and the guy Stewie was "dancing" with was definitely one of them.

The guy reached down and grabbed Stewie's waist. Brian hopped off the bar stool and ran over to them.

"So I'm going to cut in now," he said loudly, shoving the man's hands away from the infant. Stewie's eyes widened as he turned to face the dog. The guy backed up, presumably offended.

"'Cut in'? This isn't a waltz, buddy. Back off." Brian scoffed. This guy _almost_ sounded sort of intimidating.

"And this isn't your play thing," the canine jabbed his thumb at Stewie. "So you back off. _Buddy_."

Buddy did back off, but he didn't look happy about it. Brian watched him leave, triumphant. He was ready for Stewie to blow up at him for being too fatherly or whatever, but that wasn't the child's reaction at all. When he turned to explain his actions, the dog saw that Stewie was blushing, peering up at him shyly.

"You were watching?" he asked, twisting his foot back and forth on the floor. Brian shrugged.

"I just wanted to keep an eye on you. Make sure you weren't doing anything stupid." He paused, staring at the kid. "Thank god I did."

"Oh, you're just overreacting," Stewie said with a smile, trying to snap out of his funk. "You should dance—"

"Ah, nooo," Brian said, chuckling awkwardly. _Called it_. "Aaaactually…I wanted to see if you were hungry. I did tell Lois we were going out for lunch. Might as well live up to that promise."

Stewie looked at the clock and raised his eyebrows. "…Good idea."

They took an empty booth, relaxing against the red cushions. Stewie was out of breath from his incessant dancing; he leaned against Brian's shoulder, calming down. Brian just watched him, a little out of it. Stewie really looked like a girl. He was always confused as to how the child managed to pull off the hot chick look; and he didn't just pull it off, he _rocked_ it.

"Phew. Wow. That should take care of my exercise for this week, huh?" Stewie giggled, wiping his forehead. Brian smiled back, eyeing the bar.

"Hey, I'm gonna go get my drink, okay? Stay right here." He slid out of the booth without waiting for an answer. Stewie stared after him, humming along as the DJ played a new song. A guy on the dance floor locked gazes with the toddler, and smiled mischievously. Stewie grinned, batting his eyes. He knew this would piss Brian off, but man, messing with guys was too much fun to pass up.

Once again dodging some wild dancers, Brian came back with his martini and almost dropped the glass at what he saw at his table. ANOTHER guy was with Stewie, leering over the infant with one hand on the table and the other on the kid's lace stocking.

Pulling it down.

What Brian really couldn't comprehend was the fact that Stewie seemed to be encouraging this guy as well—his face was flushed and he giggled a little, simply allowing it to happen. Thinking fast, the canine slid into the booth and said as loudly as he could, "Hey, remember that time I had worms?"

The pervert immediately stopped and backed up a little. Stewie whipped his head around and glared at the dog.

"Okay, now _that_ was slightly unnecessary," he said.

"Tell this douche bag to go away!" the dog hissed; it didn't look like the guy could hear him over the music, but Brian wouldn't care either way.

"No, man, he's giving me money!" Stewie held up a ten dollar bill. "He's a sucker! I don't even have to do anything and he's _paying_ me!"

"Um, maybe because he thinks you're a prostitute?" Brian spat in disgust. "And you're not telling him otherwise?"

Stewie rolled his eyes. "You always wonder how I get so much money. Well, this is it. Guys get a cheap thrill and in return I get a fucking bank. Now drink your martini, Dog."

The child turned back to the creeped-out man and scooted closer, ignoring Brian. The dog was beyond repulsed, but decided to bite his tongue. Angry Stewie was almost as hard to handle as Excited Stewie.

The guy seemed to get over his initial gross-out and went back to petting the toddler with deliberate sensuality. Stewie apparently was only pretending to play along, but he sure did look taken with the whole thing. When the waiter came over, Brian had to order for both him and the kid, seeing as _one_ of them wasn't paying attention. The extra company leaned down and said something in Stewie's ear, to which the child laughed and covered his mouth shyly. Brian's stomach twisted as Stewie climbed onto the man and whispered something in return; the guy visibly tensed. Flushed, he handed him another ten dollar bill and Stewie took it between two fingers with a smirk.

They didn't touch much after that, but the guy looked like he wanted to. Stewie sat daintily back next to Brian, smiling up at the dog as if all was well. "His name's Danny," he said cheekily, pointing up at the guy.

Brian nodded slowly, unwilling to honor the horny pervert with his proper name. Stewie had already made 20 dollars from the guy; couldn't he ask him to leave yet? And what did he even see in him? He was of typical height, with mussy brown hair, and overdid it on the cologne. Or perfume. However this guy swayed. At any rate, Stewie could've at least chosen a lot better.

All through lunch, Brian was aware of "Danny" running his hand up and down Stewie's leg. Stewie acted like nothing was happening, making light conversation with the dog about what kind of "road to" trip he wanted to take next. Trying not to act like a jealous girlfriend, Brian awkwardly conversed with the toddler. He wished he could just ignore the blatant sexual display next to him, but the look in good ol' Danny's eyes as he stared at Stewie was too unsettling to disregard completely.

"So I was thinking of Paris," Stewie said, brushing his bangs back. "What do you think?"

"Sounds nice," Brian said through his teeth, wishing Danny would finally get the hint and just leave.

"Danny, have you ever been to Paris?" the kid asked, tilting his head to look at his new friend. The guy snapped out of his fantasy and tried to smile like he had been listening the whole time, like a decent fellow.

"Oh yeah, totally. Really romantic city." His hand roamed higher on Stewie's thigh as he said that. Stewie shimmied away slightly, looking at Brian again.

"I saw pictures of it online. It just looks _divine_. Promise you'll take us there, Brian? Just you and me?" He clasped his hands together in glee. Brian sure wasn't planning on it anytime soon, but at the moment he couldn't say no to Stewie's bright blue puppy dog eyes. That and he was kind of tipsy.

"Sure, we'll…go to Paris. Someday. If you can pay for it."

Stewie slapped his $20 on the table with a smirk. "Taking care of it."

"So uh," Danny broke in, and Brian had to hold back from breaking the guy's nose. "What is this here, Tammy? Are you and he together or what?"

"Tammy?" Brian asked, squinting in confusion.

"Oh yes, that's my name, _Bri_."

"Since when?"

"No, I'm not with him," Stewie said to their pal Danny. "I mean, I _do_ have standards, don't I?" Brian scowled, taking a particularly large bite out of his steak.

"Of course, I wasn't saying otherwise," Danny quickly sucked up, squeezing Stewie's knee and making Brian envision him getting impaled with a flag pole. "How about we go dance for a while? I like this song."

He grabbed onto Stewie's hand and led him out of the booth; the child turned to look at Brian apologetically, a small, slightly uncomfortable grin on his face. Then he was gone, swept up in a sea of dancing big people. Brian stared after him, wondering how he had gotten himself in this mess. He had to remind himself then that he trusted Stewie—he may be small, but he's a tough cookie…

His thoughts shifted when he saw three girls walking by, giving him curious looks. They smiled a little, waiting to see if he'd acknowledge them. Unable to resist what he came here for, Brian Steel turned on the charm and smiled back at them.

From there, it was easy.


	4. Chapter 4

I think I chose the name Danny because I just…never seem to get along with people named Danny. O.o

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Lori…there's people...watching."

"You are so cute! I love dogs."

"Oh my gosh, my ex-boyfriend just texted me. What should I tell him?"

Brian didn't know how long he and his new female admirers had been sitting at the booth for. It could've been hours, it could've been days. He'd had one too many martinis to tell and on top of that, he was a freaking dog and freaking dogs can't tell time to save their skin. The girls simply adored him; they ran their smooth hands along his coat and sweet-talked him, ordering more and more drinks, laughing all the way…the dog felt pretty damn mellow, and almost completely forgot about keeping an eye on Stewie. Not that he could. The kid was nowhere to be seen.

The girl named Lori looked at the text message Jamie had received from her ex, and scowled. "Tell him you're with a hot guy at a club, and ask if he can commit enough to win you over." Jamie grinned devilishly, typing in Lori's message. The third girl, named Ally or Alice or something, ordered another drink from a passing waiter. She didn't particularly express much adoration for Brian—she was just there for the record.

Brian's vision was a little hazy, but he could still function enough to drive home…couldn't he? Yes, of course he could. "Hey. Hey, what time is it, Ally?"

"It's Alice," she corrected automatically. Evidently that wasn't the first time he had messed it up. "And right now it's about 6:30."

"Um…hang on. Can you hang on here for a minute?" His speech was slurring a bit, but the girls seemed to understand him alright. They nodded their heads, watching Jamie's phone for another incoming text.

Brian paced onto the dance floor, a bad feeling creeping up in his stomach when he realized just how long he had gone for without seeing Stewie. He frantically searched around for the small, sparkly red dress, but for the life of him he couldn't see it. The music was too loud; bass pounded in his ears and too many people were crowded around him. _Good lord…how much did I drink…? _

Suddenly he felt someone tap at his shoulder. He whipped around and came face-to-face with a cute brunette.

Stewie.

Not a cute brunette.

Stewie.

"Where—where have you been?" Brian yelled over the piercing music. "I was looking for you—"

"No you weren't," Stewie said harshly. His eyes were wide and furious, but he was trembling slightly, too. "You were playing around with those girls at our table. You weren't looking for me."

Brian stuttered, trying to back away from the dancers around them. He couldn't think straight, and the overwhelming atmosphere wasn't helping. "Where were you all this time, then?"

"Maybe you would've known if you weren't busy _FUCKING DRINKING!_" the child screamed; he sounded ready to cry. His fists were clenched tight. Brian raised his eyebrows, wondering what exactly he had missed. With a sigh he grabbed Stewie and led him to the side, away from the dance floor.

"Where's whatshisfuck?"

Stewie huffed, clearly _not_ trying to keep his temper in check. "I just got rid of the fucker! You really _weren't_ paying attention to anything except those girls' breasts, were you?!"

"Hey, whoa," Brian said, getting slightly angry now too. "It's been like, what, a couple hours since you left the table? You were so caught up in your little prostitute game that you—"

"_You're_ the one who lost track of time, don't blame _ME!_" Stewie cried. Brian felt bad seeing the child so upset, and he could've sworn the sight sobered him up a little. He put his paws on Stewie's shoulders, hoping to calm the kid down.

"Okay, Stewie, I'm sorry. Alright? I lost track of time." He eyed the child, noting the way his face changed; the furious expression shifted to a downright miserable one. "What happened with Shit-Face?"

"He…," Stewie started, wiping at his eyes, although he wasn't crying. "We danced for a while, and then he said he wanted to tell me something, so, yeah, I said okay, that's fine. And then…and then…"

Some drunken guys stumbled over then, each holding beer bottles, laughing at how badly their buddy was dancing or something. One noticed Stewie…or rather, "Tammy".

"Hey baby, come dance with a real man, why don'tcha?" one of them said with a smile, kneeling down to the child's level. Before an annoyed Brian could do anything, Stewie growled, swiped the bottle out of the guy's hand and lobbed it over his head in an explosion of glass and liquid. Brian yelped and covered his face as the glass shattered; the other guys yelled in surprise and the unfortunate drunkard fell over, unconscious.

Stewie turned around, wiping his hands on his dress as if he had just done a simple cleaning job. Brian almost recoiled at the look in the child's eyes. The guys ran off, dragging the unconscious dude into the crowd.

"So um…," the dog choked out, laughing nervously. "Where were we?"

Stewie chuckled darkly, closing his eyes with a sigh. "Anyway, he said he wanted to tell me something, so I let him lead me away from the dance floor. And then I guess he said something about sex, but the way he worded it confused me, so I asked him to repeat himself but he kissed me instead…" Brian jerked. Stewie didn't wait for him to say anything. "I told him not to, I clearly remember telling him not to. He said he didn't know why he shouldn't. And then he tried again."

Brian didn't know if he was supposed to say anything yet. He really, _really_ wanted to say "I told you so", but he wasn't quite in the mood to end up being knocked unconscious like the other guy. That was something he should wait until later to say. Maybe for the next time they had an argument and he needed a quick comeback.

"So I got away from him, I don't remember how. But I didn't see him for a while." Stewie sighed again and looked at Brian. "I'm not quite sure how much time passed but I forgot about him and joined someone else. A girl," he added quickly, noticing the look on Brian's face. "She was a really good dancer…much better than Danny was. She actually knew the Charleston. How many young people know the Charleston anymore?"

He managed a smile, giggling a bit. Brian smiled too, but he could still feel his pulse pounding in his ears. "And then?"

Stewie shrugged, looking glum again. "And then I went back to sit with you. But there were too many people and I got lost for a few minutes. Then somehow Danny found me again and tried apologizing, but I told him to fuck off. And thennn…well, he dragged me to the restroom and….I mean, I got away before he got too far, but…"

Only then did Brian notice that Stewie's lace stockings were gone.

"That happened while I was at the table?" the dog asked.

Stewie glanced up at the dog unsurely. "Ye-ess…but I…I was just upset and I blamed you…you had no way of knowing…"

Brian nodded, stiff. "No, I know."

Stewie looked at the dog, surprised. "Really? I thought you'd get all…self-loathing…because, you know, this happened under _your_ watch." Brian couldn't tell if he was joking or not, and he didn't care.

"So do you want to leave now?" Brian asked. Stewie caught the rigid tone the dog was using, and decided it best not to tease him anymore.

"I would be okay with that…," he said quietly, waiting for Brian to lead him out of the club. But Brian didn't do that. Instead, he started walking toward the back where the bar was, his gaze locked on something. Taken aback, Stewie ran after him through the crowd, sliding under someone's legs in a hurry when he saw that Brian wouldn't slow down. Then he noticed what Brian was going after, and hesitated.

Brian took a seat next to Danny at the bar, facing the creep fully. His best pal Dan didn't notice at first, but after Brian cleared his throat a few times, he finally turned and jumped a little when he saw the dog sitting there.

He tried saying something, but Brian cut him off. "So you had to have known 'Tammy' is actually a boy."

Good ol' Danny squinted his eyes at the lab. "He told me."

"But you didn't care."

Danny smiled a bit. "If they're hot, I don't care what they've got between the legs."

Brian chuckled and relaxed against the counter. "So that's cool…you're pretty open-minded, then, huh? Don't uh…don't care too much about who you do it with, do ya?" He glanced at the guy slyly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the red glimmer of Stewie's dress, but he didn't turn around.

Their good friend looked at Brian curiously. "Not really." He seemed pretty invested in the conversation now. A little too invested.

Brian leaned closer, just a little, resting his head in one paw. "I know I haven't got a dress on or anything, but…"

"It doesn't matter," great old Danny said with a smile. Brian tapped at his knee slightly, eyeing his buddy pseudo-suggestively. "You _were_ looking at me an awful lot before, I saw."

Holding back the most enormous gag ever, Brian retained his shining smile. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" he asked, glancing at one of the empty bottles behind Danny so quickly the guy couldn't have caught the movement of his eyes.

His best pal Danny might've leaned forward, but Brian didn't notice over the blinding flash of red fury that flooded in front of his eyes. There was a smash of glass and the fucker was on the floor, out cold.

Everyone was silent. The DJ, unaware, kept the music going, humorously contrasting with the violent scene at the bar. Brian quickly came back to his senses, noticing where he was standing: right on top of the bar with a broken bottle in one paw, and a shocked crowd of people staring right at him. Apparently he had learned a little from Stewie that night.

Speaking of Stewie, the tyke was standing off to the side with an enormous smile on his face, but it wavered when he saw the security guard and some guys coming his way: the same guys that were with the drunkard he had attacked. They were pointing right at Stewie. Their eyes widened considerably when they saw the new victim lying on the floor, surrounded by glass.

Stewie exchanged glances with Brian and they couldn't help but smirk at each other. In the resounding chaos Brian slid down the bar table and hopped off one of the stools, landing a little clumsily next to Stewie in his tipsy state. They locked hands and swerved through the dancers and shit-faced pukers, narrowly avoiding the hands of the stricken bouncer.

Stewie leapt up and shoved the door open, letting in a rush of cool evening air. The two sprinted down the sidewalk to Brian's car, inexplicably laughing. Brian swept across the back hood and yanked the driver's door open at the same time Stewie opened the passenger's, and a second later they were speeding down the street with no clear direction in mind, sticking up their middle fingers at the club.

"I can't believe you DID that!" Stewie hollered, laughing hysterically.

Brian laughed despite the massive trouble they had gotten into. For once, he just couldn't force himself to care. "YOU did it first!"

"Oh my GOD, I just…I did NOT expect that! You're pretty sick, aren't you?!" The toddler grabbed onto the dashboard as he choked with laughter, tears running down his face. He didn't even give a shit that Brian was driving after all those martinis.

The canine took a few deep breaths, and then continued laughing. "I just took it from you! You're a _horrible_ influence on me!"

"Damn fucking _right_ I am!"

Blinking back tears, Brian punched the music on and they listened to some freaking country the entire drive home.

**Maniacal Duo Attacks Unsuspecting Victims at Club **

_Two men were violently attacked last night at the Quahog Nightclub by two maniacs pretending to blend in with the rest of the partygoers. The victims received blows to the head within the same hour. Neither victim had serious injuries, but authorities are being told to look out for a white dog and a short, black-haired girl who may be committing these violent acts at dance clubs in Quahog. "I thought we were going to die," said one friend of the female's victim…_

Stewie had to hold in his laughter as he read the article over his mother's shoulder. This had to be the richest thing he'd seen in a long time. He couldn't wait for Brian to see it.

"Sheesh, they've got nothing better to report on," Lois mumbled, flipping the page.

"Hey! I was reading that! You turn that back right now, woman!" Stewie shook his fist angrily, but Lois just assumed he was hungry for some reason.

"Alright, honey, let's go get some breakfast," she said with a smile. She went to the stairs and called, "Kids! Get up, it's breakfast time!"

"Aww, Mom," Chris groaned from his room.

"Okay, okay…," Meg called back sleepily.

"But I'm not-a _hungry_ yet!" Peter whined.

Rolling her eyes, Lois carried the baby into the kitchen and started preparing some bacon and waffles, hoping the smell would eventually drag at least _one_ person out of bed. Stewie had managed to grab the paper and continued reading about the, ahem, "conniving pair who slipped away from the police through the confusion of the crowd." _Talk about alliteration._

"Oooh, it's just _rich!_" he squealed, giggling in delight. "Hurry up with that bacon, Lois; I need something to eat while I make more comments about how simply hilarious this is!" Bitch didn't even turn around. Stewie grumbled and buried his nose inside the paper, not wanting to look at her anymore.

"Morning, Lois," Brian said brightly as he strolled into the kitchen. "Sorry if I'm late. I was making a call." The woman greeted him, grateful that _someone_ in this family had the decency to show up. "Seen the paper any…oh." He took a seat next to Stewie, who frantically shoved the paper into the dog's face. "What the…oh my gosh…" He read the article silently, eyes wide.

"Isn't it RICH?!" Stewie couldn't think of a better word. He wasn't even sure what this one meant; he just liked the sound of it.

"It's pretty…uh, funny, but…man, this means they're gonna be looking for me, aren't they…?" Brian frowned a bit, eyeing the headline with concern. He _knew_ he'd regret his carelessness from the night before.

"Who's looking for you?" Lois asked, turning around.

"Uh—nobody, I'm just joking around with Stewie," Brian said quickly, turning the page. He lowered his voice. "And by the way, now you _really_ owe me."

Stewie smiled, daintily taking the newspaper back between his thumb and index finger. "Don't you worry your cute little head, Brian. I'll make it up to you. Promise." The canine looked at the baby skeptically, but shrugged and resumed his sage newspaper-reading.

The toddler's mind drifted off to the drawing. He _had_ wanted to give it to Brian as a thank-you for taking him to the club, but seeing as that had little trip had gotten so out of hand as to escalate into a comical newspaper headline…the drawing _might_ not have been the ideal return gift. He sighed. What had started as a magnificent piece of art, dripping with confidence, had become a mere nuisance in just two days. He didn't know what Brian was expecting, but a picture was probably not his first choice.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian and Stewie had gotten home late the previous night. After the club fiasco, the latter had convinced the former to go out for ice cream, and seeing as it was still early and skipping one dinner wouldn't hurt, that's just what they did. It didn't help damper their giddiness, in fact they probably annoyed the hell out of everyone at the ice cream parlor with their incessant joke-telling and hysterical laughing fits, but they enjoyed themselves so much that they ended up staying until around 10:30. When they finally got home, Stewie was still bouncing off the walls, but somehow fell right asleep once Brian tossed him in bed.

The next morning, being able to finally take a shower was elating. The eco-friendly dog normally didn't take longer than 10 minutes or so, but that morning he stayed under the warm water for a half hour, just enjoying the sensation while effectively trying to forget the unpleasant club memories from the night before. The newspaper headline from breakfast was still on his mind; he knew it would be a good idea to prepare himself for the repercussions of his actions at the club. He thought they were justified, but authorities wouldn't see it that way.

Shaking his head, the dog finally shut the water off, pushed the curtain back and almost had a heart attack. Stewie was standing in the open doorway, staring at Brian with a blank expression. Sopping wet, the canine felt inexplicably exposed and grabbed a towel.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked the kid, visibly annoyed.

Stewie smiled and eyed the floor shyly. "Oh nothing…I came in here to get something…didn't realize you were…busy." He thought he had successfully hidden his blush, but it was as noticeable as ever. Of course he had known what Brian was doing.

"Uh-huh." Brian stepped out of the tub and shook himself dry, water flying out everywhere. He pulled his red collar on and rubbed the towel behind his ears. "Look, I gotta run some errands today, so find something to amuse yourself for a while, huh?"

Stewie frowned. "What kind of errands do you have on a Sunday? You gotta library book to return or something?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Thanks for reminding me." Brian smirked at Stewie's deadpan expression and hung up his towel. "You'd be surprised how many people wait till Sunday to get their shit done, kid."

"And I can't go with you because…?"

"Because, there's a movie I want to see and _you_ aren't old enough for it." Stewie scoffed in anger, but Brian didn't look at him, clearly getting a kick out of teasing the infant.

"You can bring me to a freaking nightclub but you won't let me see an R-rated movie?!" Stewie stomped his foot, on the verge of a tantrum. Brian straightened his collar in front of the mirror with an aura of importance.

"Well, that's not the whole thing," he went on. "I got a call this morning from…well, you wouldn't know her. Point is, I've got a date." Brian smiled at his reflection, smoothing his fur over. He didn't notice the child's expression.

Stewie stared open-mouthed at the dog, tongue-tied. He heard something shatter in his chest; all that joy they had experienced last night with each other, the overwhelming feeling of happiness that they were getting even closer, the hopefulness that Brian had actually been jealous of all the guys Stewie hung out with…it just seemed…insignificant now.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, knowing the high-and-mighty Brian was expecting a response. "Oh, really? What's…her name?"

"Nicole," Brian said surely.

_Spent a few hours alone memorizing her name, have you?_ "She sounds absolutely lovely. Does she have an alibi?"

Brian slowly turned to Stewie with narrowed eyes, clearly not amused. "Get your kicks now. I've gone out with her a few times before. She's a great girl."

"And I'm sure she thinks you're a good boy! Who's a good boy? Who's a good _boy?_" Stewie gushed, letting the venom seep through his words. He found himself wanting Brian to know that he already hated this girl.

"Oh screw off." Giving his reflection a final once-over, the dog hopped off the stool in front of the sink and sauntered his way past Stewie and down the stairs. The toddler glared after him, somehow turned on and pissed at the same time.

"Have fun, B-ry. Don't go too crazy with your new _girlfriend_," he called mockingly. Brian gave him a questioning look, confused by the baby's behavior, but ignored him and grabbed the keys to his Prius. He waved goodbye once and shut the door. Stewie didn't move for a while, seething in jealous anger. He finally snapped out of it and trudged to his room, slamming the door shut.

Without thinking, he bent down and pulled out his laptop. He wasn't used to doing this, but if Brian wasn't going to bring him to a dirty movie, he'd just have to find one on his own.

Unable to shake the image of a soaking wet and surprised Brian out of his head, Stewie madly typed the word "PORNOGRAPHY" in the Google search bar. Over 73 million results…not bad. He clicked on the first link and let his mind wander as the video started.

A pizza man opens an unlocked door to find that the woman who ordered it is still in her towel after a shower. They do it on the coffee table. Original. But oddly not unlike what had just gone down in the bathroom just minutes ago. Stewie thought back to his daydream about getting ravaged by the dog on the counter…over and over and over…

After noticing that his breathing had become hollow and quick, Stewie paused the lame-ass porn video and fanned his heated face. He was only one—how the hell was he getting sexually aroused at _ONE? _

And furthermore, who the fuck even cared?

_Oh, to be the naive recipient to that hunk of a pizza delivery guy…_

What if Brian was a pizza delivery…dog? That would certainly pay more than his writing career would. Stewie snickered at the thought and continued watching the video. Sex was definitely a strange thing to see, and well, hear. It was so noisy. But of course, Stewie understood that they were actors, and most of the noises they were making had to be scripted. It wasn't _real_ sex; it was just made by perverted old sickos for perverted old sickos, and the occasional baby.

The image of Brian with a pizza box flashed through the baby's mind again, and he laughed when he realized he found it arousing. He was getting the strangest fetishes; first a pillow, now pizza?

"Oh, we should stop! My husband will be home any minute," the naked lady on the screen said unconvincingly.

The pizza man, who was undoubtedly more buff than any pizza man Stewie had ever seen, didn't stop as requested. What an asshole. "Let him see. Let him walk in here and see what a whore you are!" Seriously, what an asshole! Who wrote this?!

"Oh yes, I _am_ a whore! Go faster!"

"I'm beginning to think you wanted something more than pizza delivered to you, Miss."

This had to be one of the worst things Stewie had ever laid eyes on, but for some reason he wanted to keep watching it. When the horrid thing was over, he immediately clicked on another—this one about an artificially sexy lifeguard fucking an incredibly tan and muscular guy she rescued. It was even worse than the pizza one. After that video there came countless others, and Stewie's eyes never left the computer screen once.

The racetrack just called. He was due for a race in thirty minutes.

Stewie took a quick but efficient shower, complete with a show tune to pass the time, and wrapped a towel around his waist as he stepped out into his kajillion-dollar condo. He looked at the clock. Twenty-five minutes left. He would totally make it with time to spare.

The doorbell rang suddenly. Grumbling, the famous NASCAR driver ran to his gigantic foyer and looked through the peek hole. "That's odd," he mumbled, and unlocked the door. He opened it fully and stood face-to-face with the most handsome pizza delivery dog he had ever seen. He was holding two large pizza boxes in one hand and a pillow in the other, but Stewie was more concerned about the fact that he hadn't ordered any pizza.

"You must have the wrong condo," he said, keeping in mind the race he had to attend to in twenty-four minutes.

The delivery dog smiled and shook his head. "This is the right condo." He dropped the pillow and pizza and stepped inside, taking off his attractive blue pizza hat. Stewie backed up, surprised.

"But I haven't ordered any pizza _or_ a pillow and I've got a NASCAR race to win—!" He was interrupted by the very aggressive kiss the delivery dog forced on him. His protest turned into a low moan and his knees buckled; the dog caught the baby before he could sink to the floor and picked him up, wrapping those small legs around his own waist. Stewie's fingers twisted in the dog's fur as their kiss deepened, his face heating up as the dog's hands squeezed at his suddenly bare bum. He was vaguely aware of the pizza delivery dog walking forward into the recently refurbished living room.

The couch was apparently too far away, so the dog settled for the coffee table—the one Stewie bought with his $6,000 prize for winning the last race, thank you very much. It was far too uncomfortable, but the dog suddenly had his pillow with him again and placed it under Stewie's head—perfect fit. "That's why you always carry these with you," he said sagely.

"I understand," Stewie said, and kissed the dog again. His towel was somewhere back there in the foyer or something, he didn't care. Everything got noisy—he and the dog were moaning and panting and touching each other, inexplicably crying out "right there, right there!" constantly. Stewie didn't even recognize his own voice anymore, but he was sure he was making the most noise.

Then he remembered—the race! He was going to miss it! "I can't, hunky delivery man," he gasped, pulling away from a kiss. "I've got a race. It's going to be on TV and maybe you can watch it—"

"I want them to know what you're doing," the dog said. "I want them to know what a whore you are!"

Stewie couldn't argue with that. "I really am a whore, aren't I?"

"Quite," hunky delivery man said. Then he went up and in, thrusting with intense speed, eliciting more lusty cries from the famous NASCAR driver. It went on for a while, and Stewie's kajillion-dollar condo disappeared. The race apparently went on without him. The pizza delivery uniform was gone. But all he cared about was Brian, his beloved Brian, who was panting and groaning and saying "Damn, damn, damn" every once in a while.

And then…then he "saw stars" as their sexual intercourse came to its climax, and right at the same time the pillow beneath his head split and out came those dusty white feathers, spiraling to the floor…

Gasping like a fish out of water, Stewie managed to say, "Brian, who is the other pizza box for?"

Brian smiled. "The lifeguard."

Stewie's eyes fluttered open. Comprehension dawned on him at once and he yawned. He was feeling oddly at peace. The sun shined in through his window, indicating late afternoon; birds were chirping, cars were cruising down the street below, and he could smell lunch downstairs.

Lying comfortably on his bed, Stewie's gaze shifted to Rupert, who was staring at him in wonder. "I say, Rupert, that dream was almost as weird as the last one," the baby said, rubbing his eyes. "Or dare I say _weirder_."

The teddy bear agreed. He looked immensely jealous, but held back any insults he may have been itching to share.

"Should probably turn this off…," Stewie mumbled, holding back another yawn as he exited out of the porn site and shut the computer down. No more of _that_ for a while. What a complete waste of a day.

As if on cue, his mother opened the door and stepped inside. "Sweetie, ready for lunch?"

"Don't you ever knock?!"

"Come on downstairs, Mommy made hotdogs."

She insisted on carrying him to the kitchen, even though he was perfectly capable of walking there himself. He was, however, grateful to her for her timing; who knows what kind of hell would've blown over if she'd seen him watching porn. Watching fucking _porn_. Seriously, what had his life come to?

As they approached the kitchen, Stewie heard an unfamiliar female voice wafting out of the doorway. A sinking feeling crept up in the baby's stomach as it dawned on him: Brian must've brought his girlfriend home.

Sure enough, next to Brian at the table sat a large-breasted, smiling floozy running her dainty little hands all over the dog. Stewie suddenly felt dizzy. This girl had long bangs over her forehead, with dark brown, almost black hair that stopped right below her chin.

She also had a short red dress on.

"Oh, look at the baby! He's so cute! Hi, Baby! I'm Nicole!" The new girlfriend got out of her seat and started cooing at Stewie, who recoiled immediately.

"Aw, he's a little shy sometimes," Lois said with an infuriating smile. "He'll get used to your company eventually. So tell us about the rest of the movie, you two!"

Brian looked at Stewie uncomfortably. Evidently he thought the kid would be asleep for a few more hours. "Um…should I, with Stewie here…?"

"Oh, he's just a baby, he won't understand." The woman put Stewie in his high chair and went to the counter, fixing lunch plates for everyone.

_You poor, poor woman,_ the dog thought, truly sympathetic. Without looking at Stewie, he continued a story that apparently had started before the baby woke up. "Alright, so the main character had this rifle, and—"

"But I thought all the weapons in his town were confiscated!" Chris shouted. Brian looked at him impatiently.

"That's the irony of this scene, Chris. So anyway the policewoman comes to his house again and—"

"I thought she wasn't in love with him!"

"She's _not_. She still has to keep an eye on the guy." Brian looked at Nicole and rolled his eyes, jabbing his thumb at Chris as if to say, "This kid. Such a jokester." His black-haired, red-dressed date laughed behind her hand.

"And who's playing the policewoman again?" Lois asked while she set the hotdogs out for everyone.

"Angelina Jolie."

"…Well, the rest of the movie sounded okay."

Stewie had no idea what they were talking about nor was he upset that he had missed this movie, but he just couldn't take his eyes off…_Nicole_. Was Brian doing this on purpose? Or was he just such an idiot that he couldn't see the similarity? The family pet just went on talking and holding Nicole's hand like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like this was just a typical Sunday afternoon with one of his many, many girlfriends. Like he didn't only go out with her because she reminded him of a certain someone.

Brian wasn't stupid. And neither was Stewie. He could see this situation for what it really was, and it was almost elating. He smiled, ignoring the conversation unfolding at the table. He didn't even eat; his stomach was too full of butterflies. Brian didn't seem to notice the extra eyes on him, he was far too busy being felt up by his floozy of a girlfriend; but Stewie wasn't bothered at all.

In fact, he might have to ask Brian about it later…

"Will you call me later, Brian?"

"Of course. We'll go see more crappy movies."

Nicole laughed again—for the three-thousandth time that evening—and kissed the dog on the cheek. After thanking Lois and Peter for lunch—for the four-millionth time that evening—she finally left, running down the driveway to her friend's car, making their way to the mall or something. It wasn't soon enough, the way Stewie saw it.

Brian waved to her and closed the door slowly. There was complete silence in the living room. "Well?" he said after a minute. "Make fun of her now. Get it over with."

"Actually, she seems kind of nice," Meg said carefully, weary of backlash.

"Yes, of course, if you can look past all the _laughing_ and _giggling_ and _squealing_. I'm sure she's even more pleasant sober, am I right, Brian?" Stewie smiled devilishly, earning a scowl from the canine.

Disregarding Stewie, Brian went on hopefully, "So you guys really think she's cool? I mean I know she's a bit…um…but still, she's really fun to be with and…"

"She's a step up from the last girl, I'll tell you that much," Lois said with a laugh.

"Oh yeah, what was _her_ deal? Was she part rooster or somethin'? Sure sounded like it when she laughed!" Peter joined in, making everyone burst into laughter while Brian seethed on the side.

"You people are so insufferable sometimes! If it's not one girl, it's another!" he said angrily, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Stewie watched with interest as the dog stormed up the stairs, wondering where Brian was going to go since he didn't have a room of his own. Suddenly, the thought of Brian entering Stewie's room and finding the picture on accident flashed through the child's mind; he jumped up from his seat on the couch and was up the stairs in an instant.

He ran into his room but Brian wasn't there. Sighing in relief, he knelt down and checked under his bed—his drawing was still safely tucked away among his other art supplies and laptop and blueprints for world domination. The dog must've gone to Lois and Peter's room, then.

"Brian?" Stewie poked his head in through his parents' door. Brian was lounging on the bed, flipping through TV stations with a moody expression on his face.

"Oh…hey. Haven't gotten to talk to you much today." Brian left the channel on some reality cooking show and patted the bed next to him. Stewie skipped over, jumping up and landing on the quilt on the first try. Facing the TV, he flopped on his stomach and kicked his little feet back and forth. Watching the toddler's progress into relaxation, Brian suddenly felt calmer himself. "So what were you doing all afternoon? Sleeping?"

Stewie blushed but hid it well this time, burying his face in his arms. "For a bit. I guess I just watched some videos online till I got tired." Brian hummed, staring at the TV screen but not really watching.

"You seemed a little quiet at lunch. Did you not like Nicole or something?" A small silence followed the dog's observation, only because Stewie wasn't sure how to explain. Now was the perfect time to confront Brian about skanky Nicole, and he was getting more and more anxious about it as the minutes went by. But now he felt a bit tongue-tied.

Taking a deep breath, the infant said quietly, "She just surprised me, is all."

"Surprised you? How?"

_Playing dumb, I see. Dammit, you are not really this stupid, Brian, are you? _"Her…outfit. And her hair. Don't tell me you didn't see it."

Brian's expression didn't change. "See…what? That she's hot?"

Stewie spoke louder, getting annoyed. "And _why_ do you think she's hot?"

"Um," the dog said slowly, not really sure where to go with this. "Did you _look_ at her?"

"Oh, I looked at her, alright—and I'll be damned if I didn't see the blatant similarities." Brian shook his head slightly, squinting in confusion. Stewie huffed, trying his best to keep the conversation civil. "_She_ didn't call you this morning, did she?"

"What are you talking about? Of course she did!" Brian sat up, a little defensive.

Stewie followed suit, sitting on his knees. "No, you called her. Because you knew she looked _familiar_." He saw Brian's face change just vaguely and knew he was on the right track. "You're really going to sit there and tell me the black hair and red dress don't _remind_ you of someone?"

Brian scowled. "If you're going to say what I think you're going to say, then I dunno what to tell you."

"You could tell me the truth." Stewie crossed his arms challengingly. "Maybe you could tell me how good you really thought I looked last night." Looking a little scandalized, Brian opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his tongue. Stewie stared at him, waiting for an answer, and when he didn't get one, he sneered. "You know, I was really hoping we could talk about this."

Brian shot back harshly: "There's nothing to talk about if you're going to act like a jealous little bitch."

Stewie's face went beet red. "How—how _dare_ you?" he snarled, getting to his feet. It didn't help him look any taller, but that was the best he could do to get his point across. "What gives _you_ the right—?"

Brian leaned forward, glaring hard at the boy. "No, what gives _you_ the right to accuse me of…my god, you're fucking _sick_, you know that?"

"I'm not the sick one, you bastard!" Stewie yelled, clenching his fists. "You're using her for your petty sexual fantasies because she looks like _ME!_ That's what's _sick!_"

He expected the dog to counter again, to yell more insults and avoid the issue, but there was only silence on his end—silence, and one dirty look.

"So I'm right, then?" he went on, lowering his voice. "I'm right about how you've got a sick attraction to me and how you take care of it by fucking random girls you know? Huh?" Again, he was getting no reaction, and that pissed him off even more.

Then, slowly, Brian pushed himself forward, closer to the kid; Stewie wavered, surprised, but he didn't back down. They stared each other down, breathing hard, bodies tensing. The tension in that room could be cut with a knife—but it suddenly increased tenfold when Brian gripped onto Stewie's arms and yanked him forward, so that they were nose-to-nose. Stewie's concentration broke as he unsuccessfully tried to free himself; heart pounding, he gave the dog a hard glare despite his growing nervousness and desire. If only he could just kiss the bastard and end their stupid fight…

Brian leaned closer and the child closed his eyes, not sure what to expect. He held his breath when the dog snarled in his ear, "You liked me first, you hypocrite." And then he let Stewie go as quickly as he'd grabbed him and hopped off the bed, leaving the TV on and everything.

Stewie stayed on top of the covers, vaguely listening to Chef Ramsey screaming about one dish that had too much tomato sauce.


	6. Chapter 6

Short. But the next chapter, my favorite so far, is honestly reaaaally long (and packed with Brewie :D). I intended this chappie to be just a transition.

:D

That night Stewie had another dream about Brian.

There weren't any lifeguards or pizza men this time—just Brian and Stewie, with some occasional puppets and balloons floating around (it made sense in context). Oh yes, and angry sex. Lots of it. Stewie woke up on the opposite end of his bed with his blanket painfully tight in his grip, wrapped around his legs in so many twists and turns he just had to wonder what he was doing all night.

The dream was pretty intensely angry from what the baby could recall. It most likely stemmed from the fact that Brian wouldn't look at Stewie all through dinner last night. He didn't even stop in his room to say goodnight like he normally did. Stewie wasn't really that mad at him anymore; he just desperately wanted to talk to him. He wanted things to be clarified. But it didn't look like Brian wanted much to do with him at the moment.

Stewie carefully put his blanket back in place, which took a little longer than he intended, and climbed out of his bed with a deliberate slowness that only Mondays could bring. He didn't have a reason to hate Mondays yet, but he thought he might as well get started now if it was inevitable.

Before he could open his bedroom door, he heard the distinct raised voice of the vile woman down the hall. Curious, the baby poked his head out to see both his parents, freaking out over one thing or other. He could make out a few words: "money", "scam", "90's movie gag that only works in a 90's movie", and "there was no raise, you just copied off that stupid 90's movie gag and stole money from the company and now it's going haywire".

Stewie shrugged and made his way downstairs. He could figure out the rest later. Adult language was so hard to decode sometimes.

In the living room, Brian was on the couch sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, turning the pages with a disinterested gaze. Stewie rubbed his eyes and walked slowly passed the dog, nonchalantly glancing over to see if Brian looked up. He didn't. That just made Stewie's Monday worth hating.

Since Lois was busy, Stewie figured he could at least try and get his own breakfast. "Okay, I need a bowl, a spoon, the colorful cereal box and some milk…easy." He took the trashcan and turned it upside down so he could use it as a stepladder to get on the counter. Not knowing where the bowls were kept, Stewie opened every cupboard and did a thorough search of each, knocking several contents to the floor. Finally, in the very last cabinet, he found an abundance of cereal bowls. He picked out the biggest one and carried it back to his makeshift ladder. Once he stepped on it, though, it toppled under his weight and he crashed to the floor, the bowl shattering upon impact.

"You have got to be kidding me," he grumbled, rubbing his knee from where he hit the floor. With an exasperated sigh the infant climbed onto the counter again and went back to the bowl cupboard. He was so engrossed he didn't notice Brian peek in through the doorway, eyes wide with concern.

This time Stewie picked out a regular-sized bowl, and concentrated severely on not dropping this one. While he was at it he figured he might as well get out a spoon from one of the drawers below; only problem was he didn't know which one the spoons were in. He bent over, almost upside down, as he opened all the drawers underneath the counter. The first one he madly rummaged through was just full of pencils. Who the hell keeps that many pencils in a kitchen?

The fourth drawer turned out to be what he was looking for, so it seemed. "Why don't they all just have spoons in them? That would be so much simpler, stupid…house…." Stewie placed the spoon in his mouth as he carried the bowl in both arms, carefully stepping towards the trashcan. After an incredibly tense and wobbly stepladder experience, the baby finally made it to the floor. Now all that was left was milk and cereal. Easy.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Stewie's heart almost burst out of his tiny chest. In his small fit of spectacular alarm the bowl slipped out of his arms and fell to the floor, cracking in half. "You've got to be fucking KIDDING ME!" he screamed, more frightened than angry. He whipped his head up to glare furiously at whoever just ruined his second attempt at breakfast.

Brian raised an eyebrow, standing full in the kitchen doorway. Stewie froze, momentarily forgetting about the bowl. "Do you need help?" the dog went on, eyeing the extravagant clutter behind the baby. Stewie's eyes narrowed, heart pounding loudly in his ears.

"No I don't need your help," he spat, turning on his heel towards the fridge. Okay, so maybe he was still a little mad. He jumped up and latched onto the handle, pulling the contraption open with a great heave. The milk just so happened to be on the second shelf.

"Are you sure? Because it looks like you could use some," Brian smirked, watching as Stewie pitter-pattered over to the trashcan again, picked it up and brought it over to the damned dairy-containment unit, obviously planning to use it as a ladder once again.

Without looking at Brian, Stewie managed to stand on it without falling, and took the milk jug with an enormous breath, holding onto it with all his might as he slowly slid off the trash can and onto the tile. He slammed it on the floor, gasping in exhaustion, and closed the refrigerator door behind him. Brian still hadn't gotten lost.

"Are you still here?" he asked the dog harshly, dragging the milk across the floor.

"I just heard all the noise you were making and thought you might've died in here," Brian answered dryly, still observing the shattered bowls on the ground. "Is it bad that I wanted to see if you were alright?"

"Well if you really want to help then make yourself useful and go jump in front of a car. Road kill is all you're good for."

Brian actually frowned like he was offended. Like he had a fucking _right_ to be _offended_. Stewie grimaced at the dog, resisting the urge to rattle off all the things he really wanted to say for the sake of the suicidal mutt's _feelings_.

Brian finally turned around, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Little brat."

A pleasant image of Brian getting run over by a procession of Hummers played in Stewie's head over the course of the next few minutes. His wide, wide smile fell when he realized he still had to finish preparing his breakfast and clean up the mess he'd made. Groaning, he carried the trashcan back over to the counter to get yet another bowl.

…..

"Huh. I could've sworn we had more of these bowls." Lois scratched her head, shrugged, and took out a bowl for herself while Stewie innocently admired a spot on the wall, far, far away from the cabinets.

"Is Dad gonna go to jail, Mom?" Chris asked loudly between bites of toast, looking quite unconcerned.

Lois rolled her eyes. "Probably. It would serve him right for thinking that stunt would actually _work_." From what Stewie had gathered over the course of breakfast, Peter had seen a scam to make more money over a long period of time in some movie called _Office Space_, and thought it would be the coolest thing ever to try it out. Smart enough to leave Joe out of the picture, he had convinced Quagmire and Mort (the "ethnic" one in the group, because it HAD to be just like the film) to help make it happen. It turned out to fuck up even worse than in the movie.

"But if that happens, would we all have to get jobs?" Meg said, also not too worried about the welfare of her father. "And where is Dad, anyway?"

Their mother groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Your father's over at Mr. Quagmire's talking it over with the two other idiots involved. Jesus, I can never believe that man." Chris laughed for no apparent reason, and continued eating and playing his DS under the table. "Let's just change the subject and try to enjoy our day. Before, you know, the police show up and we don't see your father for another 20 years or so."

Meg and Chris shrugged and went back to their breakfasts. Too many things had happened to their family for them to feel worried. Brian glanced up from the paper at Lois; the poor woman looked absolutely worn out. He sighed dejectedly, not knowing how to comfort her. He felt even more pressured taking into account the burning glare directed at him from that little devil in a highchair. Biting his lip, he hopped out of his seat and walked around the table to sit next to Lois.

"I'm sure everything will work out, Lois," he said quietly, rubbing her shoulder. "It always does."

The redhead looked at him for a moment, and smiled. Stewie could've killed her (successfully) for what he saw in her eyes. The entire display was just disgusting. He stood by his original word when he reminded himself that everything would be so much easier if she wasn't around.

No matter how much Stewie hated him at the moment, Brian was _his_.

...

Over the course of the week, the picture stayed under Stewie's bed accumulating dust. Brian and Stewie weren't talking. Instead, the dog went out on dates with Nicole every evening, staying at her place overnight at least twice in a row. The good news, or so everyone said, was that Peter hadn't been caught by the police yet. _Somehow_. But he seemed to find the whole situation pretty hilarious and stayed confident that sooner or later the brewery would burn to a crisp, somehow relieving him of the entire mess.

By the time Friday came around, Stewie couldn't take the tension in the house any longer. He couldn't stop thinking about what Brian had told him days ago—proof that Brian really was only dating Nicole because of the likeness she shared with Stewie's latest alter-ego. Stupid dog made it obvious, yet he insisted on keeping up his act.

Well, Stewie was not going to let that ruin his weekend. He was going to go out alone, and that was the way he wanted it this time.


	7. Chapter 7

So the episode was totally worth waiting for, of course, but was anyone else as horrified as I was by "Roads to Vegas"?! Holy shit! XD God. Has to be one of the best eppies, though, that was just way too creative. Anyway here's my favorite chapter. Freaking long, lotso things happening :3 By the way, the bank vault episode is my all-time favorite episode and if it didn't exist, neither would this fic. And thanks for the favorites/reviews/follows! :D Despite how…strange…the reviews might get… o.o

:D

"Brian, aren't you going over to Nicole's tonight?" Lois asked, washing the dishes from dinner. The dog was helping her by drying them because it didn't require much effort.

"Nah, we decided to give each other a break for today," he answered, staring out the window. "Man, she's got the most energy out of anyone I've ever been with." Then he thought of Jillian. "Almost."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You want commitment."

Brian took a second to answer. "Of course. Especially if we really have that special connection. And I do connect with Nicole. I guess we're on the right track."

The conversation would've been all good and well had Stewie not been in the kitchen the entire time. Lois apparently forgot to take him out of his highchair or just assumed he had nothing better to do with his evening, and either way he was left to steam in his wretched anger as the two babbled on about sweet little old _Nicole_.

And he was so sure Brian was just doing it to spite him.

Finally he started to whine, slamming his fist on the chair and kicking his feet up and down. Speaking coherently would have no effect at any rate; Lois was _that_ dense. She eventually turned around, smiling at the baby.

"Aw, is Stewie ready for bed? I think he is." The toddler, quite ready to engage in activities that did _not_ involve napping, just played along and pretended to snuggle into his mother's arms. He sighed as she brought him out of the kitchen, just catching out of the corner of his eye the look of sadness Brian was giving him. Stewie almost said something, but decided against it. He was not going to be the one to apologize first this time.

Lois gently placed her baby in his crib and kissed his forehead, closing the door behind her as she left. Stewie watched her go, almost forgiving her for being so despicable and atrocious all the time. After all, she _did_ make his favorite dinner tonight. But, of course, it would take a lot more than that to change anything.

Once he was sure she had been downstairs for a while, Stewie climbed out of bed and ran to his dresser. An incredible sensation of loneliness struck him as he turned the knob to his secret girly closet; the last time he had done this, Brian was with him, and they had been planning to have a fun night out _together_. Evidently, things had gotten so wrong during the course of a week that now, he was only rummaging through his closet for the sluttiest thing he could find just to make the dog's stomach churn. The kid pulled out a long blonde wig and a light pink skirt that shimmered in the moonlight, grabbing a random tank top to go with it. A little makeup and the careless ensemble would be complete.

…

Brian heard a door slam as he climbed the stairs, feeling the nervous butterflies he always got before he spoke to anyone he was having a fight with, specifically when he knew _he_ had to do all the talking.

The bathroom door was shut, but Stewie's was wide open, which was a sure sign Stewie wasn't in bed. Brian sighed, sliding down to the floor with his back against the wall as he tried to figure out what to say, how to apologize. He had been trying to gather up the nerve all week, only to end up running away to Nicole's every time. He was aware of how shameful that was, but he couldn't help it. Brian was never any good at apologizing.

After a few minutes he realized that the only reason the baby ever went into the bathroom was to practice voice impersonations or put on makeup. And seeing as the dog didn't hear any celebrity voices coming from behind the door, Stewie must've been doing the ladder.

"That's stupid," he mumbled, getting to his feet to investigate. His heart sunk when he found the child's hidden closet cracked open, with several rejected dresses strewn about the floor. Cursing under his breath, the dog ran back to the bathroom door and knocked on it hastily.

"Stewie, open up," he called. "We need to talk."

He really didn't expect an answer, but a second later Stewie's rigid voice came through the door: "A little too late for that."

Brian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look," he started, not sure where to go from there. "I really want to talk to you, but I don't want to do it through a door. Can you please come out here?"

Stewie was silent for a moment. Brian felt laughably small; why had he gotten himself in this situation? Life would be so much easier if he could just swallow his pride for once and stop while he was ahead. Thankfully, Stewie broke the silence. "Nothing you say is going to sway me, Dog. But I suppose if you want to get it off your chest, go right ahead and come in. I'm too busy to be bothered with coming to you."

Brian hesitantly opened the door to find Stewie sitting on the counter, applying eye shadow and blush to his scowling face; his wig and girly clothes were already on. The dog grimaced, feeling even guiltier than before.

"Um…Stewie, what are you doing?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm going out," the toddler snapped, giving the dog a brief glare. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes, that's a problem," Brian countered, holding his tongue; he came here to make up, not make things worse. "I…I'll be honest, I don't like it when you do this."

"Tough fuckin' shit," the child mumbled, checking his reflection. He glanced at Brian in the mirror expectantly. "So is that all you wanted to say?"

Brian shook his head sternly. "I'm not going to let you go out, Stewie."

This seemed to set the child off. Fuming, he hopped off the sink and faced the dog angrily. "You're not going to _let_ me? Where the flipping _hell_ do you get off, telling me what to do?" His hand tensed, ready to slap when required. Brian kept note of that.

"I'm just…I'm just obligated, that's all." He watched nervously as the child's expression changed to livid amusement.

"Well. Isn't that just peachy? Brian's looking out for me. Because he's _OBLIGATED_. Not because he _cares_, not because he _feels_ bad—no, suddenly he's just my fucking chaperone and I guess that's all he's ever been because he feels _OBLIGATED_ to stop me from ruining myself when he finds it appropriate!" Stewie was full-out screaming at Brian now, stepping forward as if ready to maul him. Brian nervously tried getting a word in, but the kid cut him off immediately. "I can't believe you! You ignore me all fucking week and then you come to me with THIS bullshit?! As if I was going to LISTEN to you?! Honestly, WHERE do you get OFF?!"

"You still owe me," Brian cut in quickly, not thinking. Stunned, Stewie gaped at him, face pink from his outburst. "For Saturday. You owe me for taking you." He paused. "So don't go out."

This earned a hearty laugh, of all things. It sounded harsh and slightly vicious. "Brian, I already paid you back by not slitting your mangy throat. Now get the hell out of my way." Brian looked stricken, but he didn't move. He narrowed his eyes and stood firmly in front of the doorway. The two glared at each other for what seemed like hours until the canine thought he found the right words to say. After a deep breath, he forced himself to speak again.

"Why did you think I was ignoring you, Stewie?"

The question surprised the toddler, but his glare remained piercing. "Because you're a shitty person?"

"Well, yeah, but besides that." Brian looked at his feet, face turning scarlet. "I ignored you because…because I didn't know what to say."

Stewie scoffed, eyeing the dog as if he were stupid. "That's more of your bullshit, Brian. If you don't have anything to say, you don't just treat people like they're not there."

"No, that's not it. I couldn't say anything because…I just didn't know. Everything I said would've just pissed you off and…and I was embarrassed." Brian still didn't make eye-contact with Stewie, not really wanting to see what the child's expression looked like. "I was nervous that you might bring up our…conversation on Sunday."

"Oh, the one we had right before you started avoiding me like the plague? That conversation?" Stewie asked, crossing his arms. But he was intrigued now. And he was especially interested in the blush on Brian's face.

"Y…yeah. Right before then." He looked at Stewie and the child was surprised to see so much regret on his face; he'd seen the dog sad and mopey before, but this was somehow different. "What was I supposed to say, Stewie? What am I supposed to say now? Just…_apologize_ and pretend this never happened? You're not just another one of my stupid girlfriends, you're…you're, uh…special…to me." He mumbled that last part.

Stewie didn't want to smile in front of Brian. He'd wait until later for that. In the meantime, the cross-dressed toddler retained his wall of indifference and anger. "Could've fooled me. An apology would be nice, Dog. But you know, I'm not going to forgive you just because you're getting all teary-eyed on me. If you don't like getting the cold shoulder, tough." He shoved past Brian, making a sharp turn into his room, presumably planning to go out the window.

Brian hesitated, again trying to find the right words to say. Finally he gathered his nerve and rushed forward, snatching Stewie by the wrist. The child whipped around to gape at him, shocked; he was ready to start yelling again when Brian said rather harshly, "Don't go."

Tension, and then: "I thought I made it clear you can't tell me what to do," Stewie said slowly, gritting his teeth.

"Listen to me, Kid. I know I made you feel this way, but you are NOT going to put yourself in danger because of our stupid fight." The dog tightened his hold, making sure Stewie wouldn't slip out of his grasp. The infant's eyes got misty as he tried to shake Brian off.

"That's just another stupid way to avoid saying you're sorry," he choked out, looking away to hide his tears. Brian's face fell as he watched Stewie's guard fall apart. It was now or never.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, but clearly.

Stewie sniffed. They stayed like that for a while, both emotionally drained and exhausted. Brian's grip didn't falter even though Stewie stopped trying to break out of it, but he didn't want to take any chances. He held on as if his life depended on it.

Finally, Stewie seemed to collect himself just enough to look Brian in the eye, with a tired and, frankly, miserable expression on his face. Brian could see tears lining his flushed cheeks and felt a sharp pang of guilt tug at his heart. "I'm sorry too," Stewie said softly. His expression changed slightly as he glanced back at the white paw wrapped around his wrist. "I'm also sorry that it's never going to be enough."

"…That's what you wanted me to say," Brian sputtered, after a moment's hesitation. His heart pounded in his ears as the child's words sank in. "And I meant it. I am sorry."

Stewie shook his head slightly, a small smile of defeat forming on his mouth. "I know. I forgive you. But…that's…it's not _enough_. I can't _be_ like this with you anymore. It's not fair."

"Then what the hell do you want from me?" the dog asked desperately, but he knew. Somewhere in that muddled and confused brain of his, deep within his denial and shame and panic…he knew.

They exchanged distressed glares and decided that was the last straw. With an almost animalistic growl, the kid literally jumped at the dog and kissed him with so much force that Brian had to catch his balance before they could topple to the carpet. That didn't distract the dog so much that he couldn't focus on kissing back, of course; he wrapped his arms around the cross-dressed imp possessively, backing up into the wall behind him.

With long-repressed desperation Stewie wrapped his legs around Brian's waist, pressing his whole body onto the dog's as forcefully as he could. He could feel one of Brian's hands on the back of his head, firmly preventing him from pulling away. It was that kind of raw dominance he had been craving from the damn mutt for the longest time, and what satisfaction it provided now that he actually got to experience it…! That is, unless he was just dreaming again; but there were no cheesy sexual puns being thrown around nor were there pizza boxes, so that was a good sign.

The two kissed and moaned and made out for a good while, both losing touch with time and location; Lois or somebody could have easily come up and seen them, not that they would've stopped. This was too amazing. He wasn't as experienced, but Stewie put his all into those kisses, hoping Brian shared his excitement. Brian squeezed the kid tighter, making it harder for Stewie to move.

"Brian," he gasped, overwhelmed. He saw the dog smirk knowingly right before he kissed him again. It was cocky, infuriating, and so fucking hot.

With surprising agility, Brian raised himself off the wall with Stewie still wrapped around him like a monkey and made his way to the kid's room; Stewie was too focused on the tongue in his mouth to notice much. The door slammed shut with a kick of the dog's foot and they were back on the floor again, this time with much more privacy. Stewie yelped when his back hit the carpet, finally coming to his senses. Everything he tried to say turned into a muffled squeak through Brian's lip-locks, so he waited patiently for an opening.

He finally got one when Brian started kissing his face and neck, but it took a few minutes before he could speak through his high-pitched moans. "I already got all dressed up…," he whimpered, pulling Brian closer. "All my makeup is on and everything…"

"Why would you want to impress anyone but me," Brian growled quietly in the kid's ear. Having never seen this side of the dog before, Stewie could say that he was just a bit intimidated.

"I…it just seems like a wasted effort…," he gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut when Brian mashed their mouths together again. They battled tongues again, thrusting into each other, filling the room with heavy pants and groans. Stewie's hips twitched at the sudden pressure he felt digging between his legs; Brian was clearly enjoying this as much as he was.

"Happy to see me?"

"Hush," Brian said, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. Stewie hushed. Under the right circumstances, dominance was pretty hot. Brian's paws roamed his small body, pulling at what little clothes he had on. Obviously this wasn't new to the dog, but he treated the kid with a slight kind of tenderness, as if he was maybe trying to hold back for his sake. The dog stroked the child's cheek as they kissed, and even said his name a few times. Stewie knew better than to mistake Brian's actions for delusional, one-night stand behavior.

Their breaths became shallow. Brian's fingers tensed around Stewie's waist as the toddler softly grinded against him, his face flushed with desperation. Without a word, he carefully scooped the kid up and walked backwards to the bedside drawer. After blindly fumbling around through the contents (seeing as his mouth was glued to Stewie's), he finally pulled out what he was looking for. Stewie cracked open an eye in curiosity and felt his stomach twist in anxiety.

"You keep your sex…_stuff_ in my room?" he muttered, his words muffled by Brian's tongue.

"It's my room too," Brian said huskily, obviously at his breaking point. Stewie let that sink in as the canine carried him to his—their—bed. The prospect of sleeping in Brian's protective hold every single night, waking up every morning and seeing the dog's goofy expressions as he slept…

His back hit the mattress. There was a pillow underneath his head. He almost panicked when he thought about what would happen to that pillow, but forced himself to remain calm. He saw Brian applying the clear stuff he had once heard his mom call "_lube_" and that didn't really help his nerves at all.

"We're not redecorating," he managed, letting Brian get him into position. Brian smiled, laughed a little. In the dark, with that expression, he kind of looked younger, less stressed. Like a puppy. All the child's doubts slowly started to dissipate as he studied that mystifying expression. There was nothing to be scared of.

Almost as a last resort, Brian took Stewie's blonde wig off and tried his best to wipe off some of the makeup—a gesture that calmed the child down considerably. This was real, it was happening, and there would be no more female look-alikes (including him) getting in the way of it.

Brian took a deep breath, exchanged small smiles with the child, and entered Stewie as cautiously as he could in his frisky state. Stewie let out a strangled groan in shock and discomfort, gripping at the bed sheets until his knuckles were white. He hissed through gritted teeth. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." Wary, Brian pulled out, and Stewie decided he liked it better when Brian was in. "Go," he gasped. The dog obliged immediately and after a few more slightly awkward thrusts, they fell into a rhythm they could agree on.

If anyone asked Stewie to explain what sex felt like, he knew exactly what to say: _Better than all the cake you can imagine, and definitely best when it's with someone you more than remotely like. _

The pitch-dark room was silent sans the lusty panting wafting through the air. The crib rocked slightly, metrically. Brian took Stewie and held the child close, sitting him in his lap while the kid moved steadily, keeping up with their rhythm surprisingly well. The pressure inside his little body was so intense, intruding and wonderful that Stewie wanted to just squeeze his eyes shut and get lost in it, but he couldn't stop staring at Brian. He moaned a little and apparently it was sexy, because the next thing he knew he was on his back again and Brian was taking full charge.

They were so loud Brian was surprised Lois didn't storm right in and catch them red-handed. If she did end up doing just that, well, he'd be fucking dead, but he didn't think Stewie would notice her—he was in another world. Brian didn't have to work as hard to get to the kid's sweet spot. A part of him was ashamed and horrified by why that was and what he was doing, but the other part of him didn't give a flying fuck. It felt insanely and unnaturally amazing, intoxicating even; the stupider part of him almost wondered why they hadn't been doing this the whole time.

As good as Stewie looked in all his dresses, as shockingly and sickeningly attracted to him Brian had felt that day at the club, the kid looked much cuter when he was just _Stewie_. His natural self made him look more vulnerable, and that made Brian feel protective, a feeling he enjoyed—the feeling gave him a purpose. He had something he was needed for.

And that something was clawing at his shoulders, almost ripping out strands of white fur at every thrust. Brian hadn't realized how hard he had been plunging into Stewie until it dawned on him that the bed was banging against the wall.

"Fuck—dammit—go faster, Brian, _faster_, _please_—!" And now the bed was basically leaving its imprint in the wall, for Brian carried out Stewie's wish without objection. He did say please, after all.

Stewie was sticky and sore, which normally would've grossed him out, but he was ready to beg for more if he needed to. He wanted to think of a more poetic way to describe how he felt, but all he could think of were the words _pizza_, _pillow_ and _lifeguard_. When _feathers_ came to mind he suddenly reached his climax and sang a surprised, high-pitched verse of a show tune Brian couldn't place the name of at the moment; just knowing Stewie hit climax made it hard to focus on anything at all. He got in a few more thrusts before hitting the brink. Their cries became louder as the two got lost in their shared bliss. Stewie reached up and roughly yanked the dog in for another long, steady kiss, shaking out the remainder of their orgasms.

When they pulled away, Stewie sang more of that show tune.

Panting hard and trying not to laugh, Brian expected Stewie to flop back on the bed in exhaustion. But the child still had a death hold on him, staring at him with an indescribable expression on his face. He breathing was ragged and raspy, and he was shivering slightly—but his grip on Brian's shoulders never wavered. His fingers tensed tighter in the soft fur, bringing the dog even closer. Brian almost couldn't believe what he thought Stewie was driving at.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice husky, running his fingers up and down Stewie's back absentmindedly.

The child nodded, still staring straight into Brian's eyes, calculating. His gaze sent a chill down the dog's spine. "Pretty good."

Brian leaned down and licked the child's cheek; Stewie caught the dog's tongue in his mouth and gave him another probing kiss, yanking on his collar so their bodies meshed. Brian suffered a little whiplash, surprised at how aggressive the kid was despite what they just did.

"Not quite satisfied," Stewie muttered against Brian's neck. "But good."

"You'll hurt yourself," the dog warned. Stewie was tiny; what they were doing was stupid and risky just regarding the size of his body.

"Does it look like I care," the kid growled, mashing their mouths together so violently Brian felt his back hit the bed. Stewie pinned him down almost professionally and kissed him with desperate passion; despite being taken aback and completely freaked out, Brian could've laughed, but he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe he was just happy to find someone who couldn't get enough of him.

Of course, he'd always known how Stewie had felt about him. At least, he'd known for a while. Their strange ballroom dancing practice had planted the idea in his head, while the equally as strange bank vault incident pretty much confirmed it. Stewie had denied feeling _that_ way about him, but Brian saw the look in his eyes. Maybe that's when he'd started feeling a tiny little something-or-other as well.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Lois about wanting to find that "special connection" with someone. Although it certainly wasn't a perfect setup, he definitely had a special connection with Stewie. As they made out like crazy people, Brian slowly pushing Stewie down until he was inside him again, as they held onto each other with unnecessary force, thrusting and panting and kissing, desperately trying to feel every part of each other's bodies…Brian had never been more sure of that connection.

They'd had bitter fights. They hurt each other in every sense of the word. They'd insulted each other, tried to ruin each other's lives, and pointed guns at each other's heads. And they'd both had moments where they almost convinced themselves that they didn't need the other. Surprisingly, there were a lot of those moments.

But Stewie was still right there, hugging Brian like his life depended on it, hitting climax the moment Brian whispered his name. He was still there despite hating him just an hour before. Having already hit orgasm, Brian finally relaxed as Stewie settled down on the bed. Lost in his vague wonder, Brian ran his fingers along the child's cheek, watching the most genuine, sweet, and comfortable smile he'd ever seen grace Stewie's face.

No one had ever, ever smiled at him like that.

Stewie always tried to convince Brian that he loved him, and the little bastard wasn't lying.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the long update, inspiration for writing turned into inspiration for drawing ._. but I do have an ending planned for this story, so I won't abandon it :3

This chapter is mainly fluff. Beware the fluff o_o

:D

Stewie sat shivering in Brian's arms, curled in his lap. His grip on the dog's fur was painfully tight, but Brian didn't care. After seeing such raw emotion on the child's face, that smile, the gesture that showed him everything Stewie had ever felt for him…Brian didn't care much about anything anymore.

"Stewie," he said. _Stewie, Stewie, Stewie._

He suddenly felt drained, physically and mentally. With the kid still in his arms he fell forward onto the bed, crushing his companion into the rumpled sheets.

"Mrf," Stewie mumbled underneath him. With a tired chuckle Brian rolled away enough to let the kid breathe, but his arms stayed where they were: wrapped around him possessively.

Stewie studied his dog with a smile, noting the mussed white fur all along his chest and shoulders, and the way his one ear was flipped back. He and Brian were in the exact same positions as that night he had his fucked-up erotic rape dream. Besides the fact that he was naked and they actually just had two rounds of incredibly loud, incredibly intense sex, Stewie felt the same as he had that night: protected, cared for, loved.

Also horny. But maybe that was a given.

He touched Brian's nose. The dog grinned at him. Stewie looked like he wanted to say something, but he just smirked instead. He moved his hand to rest on the dog's arm, stroking the fur gently.

"Dog," he said.

"Kid," Brian answered.

After a moment: "What are you gonna tell your girlfriend?"

Brian's expression had Stewie giggling like a maniac, despite the harsh glare aimed at him. The kid had evidently learned a thing or two from Buzz Killington. In no time, though, Brian's irritation disappeared as Stewie's wide eyes made it clear he really was serious about his question.

"I don't…I don't know," Brian said finally. "You didn't have to bring her up."

"Sorry." Stewie sounded like he meant it, which was relieving. He continued stroking the dog's arm affectionately. "I just wanted some clarification, is all. But I can wait."

"If you think I'm going back to her, you're stupider than I thought," Brian said simply, quickly kissing the baby's nose as if to emphasize his point. Stewie smiled, closing his eyes as he snuggled into his pillow. Brian followed suit, but he didn't want to go to sleep yet.

"She never meant as much to me as you do, you know," he said quietly, his face heating up. He knew it was sappy, but it was completely honest as _well_ as sappy, and Stewie ate that stuff up, didn't he?

Stewie's eyes opened again, albeit sleepily. "But she's still kind of important?"

Brian hesitated. Something in the kid's voice reassured him that it was okay to tell the truth. "I mean…sure. I've known her for a while. She really likes me."

Stewie hummed. He let out a yawn, stretched, and carefully slipped out of Brian's arms. The dog watched him, confused and a little frightened. Stewie sat on his knees with some difficulty, seeing as it still hurt to move. He looked right at Brian.

"Does she love you as much as I do?"

The question seemed to echo through the room, ringing in the dog's ears so loudly it made his heart pound faster. He didn't see it coming, but it made him happy.

Brian had his answer all ready to go, but he suddenly couldn't talk.

He found his tongue tied as he stared at Stewie's face; those serious, narrowed eyes filled with nothing but confidence. The child wasn't smiling or blushing. Despite this being the first time Stewie had really confessed to being in love with him, he looked totally calm.

Brian's eyes started to sting a little, but he didn't even notice. He'd had those words said to him before. He thought back to Jillian saying them; it never made Brian feel anything. Before now, he never could have admitted that. He would just pretend to go on acting like she was everything he wanted in life.

When it came down to it, Jillian was only settling for him because he was smitten with her.

Like every girl he'd ever dated.

He saw it in the way they looked at him, and though Jillian was probably the easiest person in the world to read, he hardly thought the other girls he'd been with were too complex to figure out as well. He was always just being _settled_ for.

It was sick, it was insane, but when Stewie used those words, he felt his heart start to heal a little. That should've been obvious, seeing as he was aware of the one tear that managed to fall down his face. Stewie winced. That tear shouldn't have been noticeable in the dark, but the fact that Stewie did see it wasn't even surprising anymore. That little bastard saw _everything_.

"I don't th-think anyone loves me as much as you do," he managed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. He focused so much on not making eye contact with his best friend that more tears fell, despite his growing desire for them not to.

"Crazy," Stewie said finally, although something sounded off about his voice. "I tell you I love you and you cry. What the fuck, man up." Brian looked up slowly, not raising his head, and saw that Stewie was trembling, wiping furiously at his own eyes.

Brian smiled, letting out a small half-sob, half-chuckle. The two sat in silence, now able to hear noises coming from downstairs. The sounds were vague; a few different voices, a door slamming, something that sounded like a turkey or…whatever. They could worry about it later.

Or not. Not worrying was starting to sound pretty good to Brian.

They embraced again eventually, sniveling and trying to pretend they weren't crying. Didn't matter when or how they fell asleep, just that they'd be sharing the same bed from now on and there would be no redecorating in this room, _ever_.

It must've been almost noon when Stewie woke up, because the sunlight was streaming into the room and heating up the bed. Vaguely, he noticed Brian fast asleep right next to him. Sitting up, Stewie blinked a few times, yawned, rubbed his eyes, and did a fantastic double take.

Brian was sleeping next to him.

Because they had sex.

The kid gaped a little, suddenly noticing how sore and sticky he was. The memories started flooding back to his brain, shocking him a little more one by one. Finally he found himself smiling, because all the memories were, of course, damn _good_ ones. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he leaned down and gave Brian's nose a little kiss.

After a moment, Brian's eyes fluttered open. He stared at Stewie for a moment before pushing himself up on his pillow, yawning. Stewie watched him, unable to stop smiling. The dog leaned on his arms and tilted his head to his partner, grinning knowingly. Stewie's face went pink and he had to look away, bashfully shoving at Brian when the dog tried to give him a good morning lick on the cheek.

The alluring smell of breakfast downstairs wafted into the room.

"Good morning, Brian…or should I say good afternoon?"

Brian took a seat at the kitchen table, checking the clock vaguely. "It's not noon yet."

Lois smiled, though it looked a little forced. "I know. It's just later than usual."

Brian took the paper and opened it up to some random section. He eyed the redhead curiously. She had bags under her eyes, and she wasn't dressed for the day like she normally was in the mornings. "Is something wrong?"

Lois exhaled, glancing at the toaster as if willing it to be done with her food. "There was just a lot of commotion last night, that's all."

"You bet there was," Stewie announced, walking boldly (and a little awkwardly; he so obviously had the post-sex walk that Brian wanted to laugh). "Mother, it might interest you to know that the dog and I slept together last night. Isn't that just divine?"

Brian's jaw dropped in horror, but Lois just grinned at her baby. "Good morning, sleepy head. Are you hungry?"

"Hungry for more of _that_, yes, actually. Thanks for asking." Stewie tilted his head towards the dog, who accidentally tore a page of the newspaper in half.

After setting the baby in his high chair, Lois turned back to Brian, who immediately turned the page and tried to look like he wasn't about to go into conniptions. "But anyway, Joe came by and…well, did some questioning."

Brian paused; it finally dawned on him what all those noises the previous night were. "Um…wow, really? What…happened?"

"Joe knows, obviously," Lois said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Only an idiot wouldn't realize who was behind the scam. But he's holding back, for Peter's sake."

"Is that bad?"

"If he doesn't make the arrest, someone else eventually will, so what good is it?"

Stewie watched as the two conversed, slowly getting angrier. First of all, he was starving and the bitch wasn't even paying enough attention to get it for him, and secondly, Brian should've been talking to _HIM_. Who cared what kind of shit Peter had gotten into lately, this happened all the time! But Stewie and Brian, having sex? That was new! That was _interesting_! Stewie thought that that at _least_ warranted some conversation.

Brian made a sideways glace at Stewie and cleared his throat. "So…what happens now?"

Lois ran a hand through her hair, obviously ready to end the conversation. "Want some toast?"

The canine sighed, nodding. He went back to aimlessly reading the paper, looking all too distracted. Stewie snapped his fingers at him. Brian looked at the child, stuck his tongue out, and went back to reading. There was a tiny smile on his face. That was what Stewie really wanted to see; just some recognition was all.

"Hey, hey, Dog," Stewie said. "How was I compared to your bimbos?"

Brian swallowed, glancing at Lois nervously. "I just want to read my paper!" he hissed, face going red.

"But how _was_ I?"

Brian slammed the paper on the table and got up, fidgeting. "Lois, I'm going to get some fresh air for a minute, okay?"

The woman hummed, staring out the window. Brian practically ran out the door.

Stewie bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the dog go, considering. He quickly glanced at his mother and decided she wouldn't notice if he left, and struggled to climb out of his highchair. It was hard enough already without having been pounded in the behind twice the night before. Stewie let out a shrill giggle at the thought, immediately covering his mouth in embarrassment. This was all so surreal; he almost thought he was dreaming again.

Once he got outside, he had the conversation all planned out: Brian would freak out about Stewie blabbering to Lois, Stewie would make a snarky comment about how it didn't matter because Lois couldn't understand him anyway, Brian would try to throw the whole "you never know when she might start to" spiel and so on. He wasn't looking forward to it, but it was inevitable.

He found the dog sitting on the front step, staring off at nothing. He didn't look angry, at least not yet; Stewie hoped that at least the nice weather calmed him down a bit. He slowly walked up to the dog, wincing slightly with every step, and sat next to him without a word. Brian was resting his cheek on one of his paws, so Stewie rested his cheek on his hand, mimicking the dog's sullen expression.

"You can start the lecture now, I'm all prepared to justify myself," Stewie said after a while. Brian watched a little bird across the street, digging at the ground for some unlucky worms. Distracted as he was, he was ready to defend the yard should the bird come close.

Stewie waited. If Brian didn't hurry up with his freak-out, the kid was going to accidentally forget the entire conversation he had planned and he'd for _sure_ not come up with anything witty on the spot like this.

Finally Brian said something. "Thanks for coming out here."

Stewie looked at the dog in confusion. "What?"

Brian quickly wrapped his arm around the toddler and yanked him close, planting a kiss on his mouth. Stewie squeaked in surprise; his little hands instinctually grappled onto the dog's collar, so when Brian tried to pull away, Stewie just pulled him right back.

A few minutes passed before the two realized they had to stop; a car was on its way down the street and, well, who _wouldn't_ stop to check out a baby making out with a dog? Brian kept his arm around Stewie though, probably trying to protect him from that bird.

"You're welcome, I suppose," Stewie managed, running his hand along Brian's paw. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten what we did last night."

"Yeah," Brian snorted. "I just _forgot_ that I fucked my best friend's one-year-old son."

"Twice," Stewie added.

"Twice," Brian agreed.

"So you still haven't answered my question," the child said with a cheeky smile. "How _was_ I compared to your other one-night stands? Or better yet, how were they compared to _this_?" He pointed at himself suggestively, trying not to crack up.

He half-expected Brian to run away like a maniac again, but surprisingly the dog stayed still. "They don't compare," he said quietly.

Stewie's confidence waned immediately. He went from a wise-cracking, insensitive cheeky bastard to a blushing, babbling, and basically just-regular-bastard in one second. "Uhm…oh."

Brian managed a laugh and the solemn expression disappeared from his face. He stood up, swiftly giving the evil eye to the freaking bird, and held out a hand to help Stewie up. Looking at the child's bright red face and plate-sized eyes, he decided one more crack wouldn't hurt. Besides, this was kind of the perfect revenge for what the kid did to him in the kitchen.

"And who said anything about you being a one-night stand?" he said.

Now Stewie was so red he was practically a muttering tomato. Mission accomplished.

"So…does this mean we're…?" Stewie managed, his fingers tensing around Brian's hand. The dog didn't answer, but he did chuckle a little.

Brian took his tomato-like companion back to the kitchen for breakfast, whistling innocently.

Peter spent the whole day hiding in a makeshift cushion fort in his bedroom, just in case Joe should come back. Brian made the mistake of entering the room to retrieve his laptop, and merely raised an eyebrow when he saw the massive pile of cushions topped with a blanket in the corner of the room. There was a cord coming through two of the cushions and he could hear noises coming from underneath.

"Peter, do you have the TV in there with you?" the dog asked, inexplicably half-tempted to join him.

"_SHH_, Brian, I'm not in here!" Peter not-so-quietly whispered back. "Just go about your normal day and if Joe asks, I'm halfway to Mexico!"

Brian considered this, but ended up shaking his head with a sigh. "Peter…I hate to tell you this, but I don't think hiding in a cushion fort is going to help you that much."

"I dunno, I feel pretty invincible in here."

Brian hesitated, trying to talk himself out of it, but it was too tempting. "Where's the door?"

"Brian! Are you going to join me?"

"Just open up."

A second later two of the cushions were pushed out of the way, making a space just the right size for Brian to crawl into. Yes, there was a TV in the makeshift cushion fort. Peter was watching _According to Jim_, and there were snacks and magazines littered all around the floor. And, considering Peter's massive size, the fort was huge. It did feel pretty impenetrable.

Brian got himself comfortable and took a chocolate bar right out of Peter's hands. "So you realize this isn't going to protect you forever, right? You're going to have to leave sometime."

"Says who? I've got everything I need right here." Peter smiled and pointed to the TV and porno mags, as if Brian couldn't already see them.

"I know, but…I'm just looking out for you. That's all. Nice place, by the way."

Peter took the chocolate bar back in what he thought was a quick and sly maneuver. "I made it all by myself. Lois doesn't know about it yet though."

Brian laughed unintentionally. He could only imagine what Lois' reaction to finding all the couch cushions gone would be.

They didn't talk much after that. Brian stayed longer than he originally planned, just lying around watching TBS and eating junk food, losing what little motivation he had for writing when he had first come into the bedroom. He didn't have anything to do at the moment anyway; Stewie was out with Lois at the store, giving Brian some time to think stuff over. A lot of time, actually.

The weird thing was, when he looked at Stewie, he didn't feel like he did anything wrong. When he was with the kid, the guilt he was so scared of eventually feeling hadn't yet come to him. But being with Peter, _that's_ where his stomach started to twist into knots. As much as he enjoyed spending time with the man, he found he could no longer look him in the eye. As if once making out with his best friend's daughter and once being in love with his best friend's wife wasn't enough, Brian had to go and screw his best friend's youngest son, definitely _not_ once. He was really making his way through the family.

Suddenly Brian felt a little overwhelmed. Okay, a _lot_ overwhelmed. Thinking of an excuse that sounded valid enough, he stood, brushing junk food crumbs off his stomach. "Uh, I think I heard Lois downstairs. Maybe she needs help with the groceries."

"Oh _come_ on, if she needed help she would've asked. It's not our job to get all nosey," Peter whined. Brian smirked at his lazy friend and made his way out of the pillow fort, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

As a last-minute impulse, the dog grabbed his laptop before heading downstairs. He wasn't going to let this worry him. He was going to get some writing done _no matter what_.

An hour passed before Lois and Stewie came home for real. Brian leaned his head over the arm of the couch as the woman of the house walked in the door, hauling three bags at once.

"Hey, you need help with that? Obviously?" Brian asked, halfway off the couch. Lois shook her head.

"It gives me something to do right now. I'm alright," she replied with a distracted smile. Brian sat back down and sighed; if Lois was stressed out now, wait till she saw her husband's pillow fort upstairs.

Suddenly Stewie was looking at him from upside-down, and Brian jumped so hard his laptop almost tumbled out of his grip. He pushed at the baby's face, gently, but enough to show he was annoyed. Stewie flopped over the back of the couch and onto the cushions, smiling. Brian's annoyance quickly dissipated. He had never seen Stewie smile after spending an entire afternoon with his mother. _Ever_.

"Missed you," he said.

"Missed you too," Brian said, trying not to grin.

Stewie's eyes slowly left Brian's and traveled down to what the dog was holding. The kid's expression went from sweet to evil in a millisecond. "Oh my GAWD, what is THIS?!" He reached for the laptop, and Brian flinched, cursing himself for not putting it away the second Stewie walked in the door.

"Just—it's nothing! Get outta here, Kid!" Stewie kept reaching for it, disregarding Brian's embarrassed blush as the dog maneuvered the laptop away from him.

"You were WRITING again, weren't you?" Finally giving up, Stewie leaned back, crossing his arms smugly. "I thought you'd given up on that for good?"

Brian had no retort ready to go. He lowered his head a little, kind of ashamed. "Me too," he muttered.

"Well, that's great then! Do you want me to edit? I'm good at editing. Well actually I'm better at writing, but this isn't about _me_ now, is it? Oh but I simply can't help you; I just don't have the time! Don't ask me because I won't do it!" Brian didn't know how to reply, but luckily he didn't have to. "Oh, _okay_, you push too hard! I'll edit."

Brian blinked. "Uh…I…"

Stewie grabbed his feet excitedly, his eyes wide. "So what's it about? Do tell!"

The dog had to look away to hide his blush. His eyes glazed over the blank Word document, not wanting to tell the truth and let the kid down. Stewie looked so cute, all excited and curious. Brian sighed and shut the computer. "You'll see."

"AWWWW!" the kid pouted. "I should've known you'd cheat me like that."

Brian set the laptop down and held his arms out. "Just be quiet and c'mere. Cuddle."

Stewie brought his hands to his face, feigning bashfulness. "How'd you know that's what I wanted?"

"Because you're a selfish bastard."

The two easily found a comfortable position and settled down in the corner of the couch, Stewie curled in Brian's lap with the dog's arm lightly around his shoulders. To anyone else, it would just look like a baby taking a nap, using his dog as a pillow. Brian resisted the urge to laugh hysterically at the thought of what the family would do if they actually knew what was happening here.

Stewie hummed, nuzzling against his dog-pillow. "You and me. It's surreal, isn't it? Who'da thunk it? Would you'da thunk it?"

Brian closed his eyes, suddenly ready for a nap. "Never in a million years."

Stewie grabbed a clump of fur on the dog's chest and twisted it.

"OW! I MEAN '_YES'_!"

The baby leaned back and nuzzled Brian again, his little hands dangerously clasping more fur. Brian glared at the ceiling, replacing his paw around Stewie's shoulder. "Sheesh," he muttered.

"Sheesh yourself," Stewie grumbled, discreetly but carefully smoothing out the fur he had just ravaged.

The sound of a cell phone startled the two into waking up. Stewie jolted up so fast he accidentally smacked Brian's snout, and as Brian cried out in pain and cupped his probably-now-bleeding nose, one of his arms accidentally whacked Stewie and the toddler fell off the couch.

And yet, the phone just kept ringing innocently. It was almost ringing in sync with the agonized groaning of its two victims.

Rubbing his nose and ignoring Stewie's enraged cursing, Brian reached to the floor and felt around for his phone. He had to lean forward a little to reach it, and being groggy and in pain the dog lost his balance and tumbled off the couch, landing on Stewie.

"GOD DAMMIT WHAT THE HELL MAN!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry…," Brian groaned, flopping off of the toddler and throwing himself forward at the ringing device. He flipped it open just in time and held it to his ear, gasping, "Hello?!"

"Brian?" a girl's voice said hopefully. It took Brian a moment to comprehend where he knew that voice from.

"Oh, hey Nicole," he managed when it came back to him. And then he nearly had a heart attack; he had totally and completely forgotten about her. Maybe he was just trying to forget about her, which was probably not a bright thing to do. "Uh, what—what's up?"

"Well, you didn't call last night and I was just wondering if everything's alright."

_Jeez, clingy. I don't call for one night and she gets worried. What, does she think I'm chea…_

_Oh. _

"Um, yeah, no, yeah, everything's alright," the dog answered shakily, trying to feign lightheartedness. He grimaced apologetically at Stewie, who was staring at the phone in fury (because of the surprise call from the _other woman_ or the fact that it had almost killed him, Brian didn't know. Maybe both).

"Oh, okay, good," Nicole said, obviously smiling all absentmindedly like she was so prone to doing. "So, I was thinking we should go out tomorrow."

"You want to go out tomorrow?" he asked Nicole cautiously, looking at Stewie for support. He always ended up saying the wrong things.

Stewie narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Brian nodded at Stewie and was about to tell Nicole he couldn't when she started talking again. "Yeah, I was thinking we could go out to eat and just have a nice time, you know, maybe go dancing, have a little wine, go to a nightclub or something. You like all that stuff, right? I know you do, you even told me you did…"

Brian tried getting a word in but it was simply impossible. Funny how he never found her annoying before today. "Ah, Nicole, listen I—"

"What, you have plans? Are you going out with someone?" Again, Brian was prepared to tell her no, and then stopped because _yes_, he was going out with someone else, but that would be stupid to tell Nicole before breaking up with her…he looked at Stewie for reassurance again, and the toddler waved his hands around, thinking that Brian would understand what the hell he meant. Brian blinked a little and brought his attention back to the receiver.

"Wh-why is that the first thing you assume? Of course I'm not…I-I don't even have plans for tomorrow." Stewie smacked his forehead so loud the sound echoed through the living room.

Brian held his breath, cursing his disoriented, sleepy, muddled brain as Nicole gasped in delight. "So we can go out! That's great! You know, I can pick you up, it's no problem. You've been doing all the driving and I think it's high-time I drive you someplace. Okay! So I'll see you around six tomorrow evening, alright? Bye Brian!" And she hung up.

Brian stared at his phone, speechless and confused. "What just happened?"

"My god man, you had _all_ _day_ to break up with that bimbo! Now you're going on a date with her?!"

"You heard that whole conversation?" Brian asked skeptically, finally shutting his phone.

"She was practically screaming into the phone! It's kinda hard to miss _that_ shrill voice!"

"Touché. Well, hey, don't worry. I'll just break up with her at the end of the date. It's no big deal; we were never that serious anyway."

"Going out every single night isn't serious?" Stewie stared at Brian, more than a little annoyed.

The dog huffed and sat back against the couch. "Most of those dates were just a way for me to avoid you."

Stewie blinked. "Oh yeah. But still! If you go out with her and _don't_ break up, I'm going to do something to you much worse than what happened to your nose."

Brian threw a pillow at him. "Abusive!"

"It's justified!"

"Abuse is _never_ justified."

"With you it is."

Brian stood, stretched, and walked to the kitchen for a snack, deliberately kicking Stewie over as he went. The toddler roughly grasped onto his foot, tripping him.

_Yeah_, Brian thought, lying on the floor. There was a smile on his face as he watched as Stewie laughed triumphantly in front of him, racing off to the kitchen to get the best food before Brian did. _This relationship is off to a good start. _


End file.
